in second grade i watched girls become horses. during recess they would gather and roam the playground, re-creating reality. boys were not invited. it is now obvious that in 1950 my feminine classmates faced restricted opportunities. i wonder how they lived their lives after the freedom they enjoyed as wild horses.
the fenced schoolyard became the wide-open range
girls transformed into mustangs,
appaloosas or roans, pintos or golden palominos,
then pranced and whinnied, raised their thin arms,
bent their wrists that became fore-legs of
stallions and mares, and streaked over their prairie
in multi-hued herds of the wild and graceful.
years later some would walk into corrals, barns,
accepting halters and saddles, except the ones
who could never give up their passion for running
through the pungent smell of sage, thundering over
the broad plains toward the gathering storms.