Autumn

All the horses march in slow circles around the meadow, kicking up the ground fog, under the autumn stars. Steam rising from the black earth, steam rising from their flanks, from their snorting breath when they paw at the moon. Keeping time with their hoof beats to the slow plaintive call of the frogs in the lake, keeping time to the beat of a young girl's just - broken heart.

They dance in slow circles across the wet grass, and their hoof prints are runes in a soft green prayer book. They dance for the equinox. They dance to remember. They dance to ease a young girl's pain. Tonight she'll dream all her hurt and sadness are trampled in the earth. Tonight she'll dream of wild horses, dancing across the sky.