Distant bounds on earth a thunder cloud

lights the sky a mournful cry, hail with wind

falling down along the shores, the Stallion grey

neighs in pain from lighting strikes, piercing deep

rolling to his knees rising again in strength of power.

Bred for hardship like ancestors of noble stock in anger,

where he was born on the windy shores near the sea,

lashing out rising in fury his hooves stomping sand.

His mare with foal standing proud, neighing loudly

healing him in pastures green, roaming together

such rich memories these valleys of home,

like some far off fragrance of a wild rose

head held high snorting at the wind.

Lightning hiding beyond the clouds

flashed the long reflected rays,

the baby foal born this day

stumbling falling swaying,

in the sunshine of new life.

Blessed the hillside to rest

his grand process being alive,

proud heritage as the wild horse

heading this course to see the sea,

six foreign leagues before him now

and hear gulls swooping screeching,

mournful cries diving across the waves.

Foamy sea horses surfing along the shore,

silver in the silence the stallion and the mare

trotting with their foal a family triumphantly free,

my view from high up on my Granddad’s farm

the lonely open space there on the veranda,

looking down the valley a beautiful view

wild horses rolling in the low tide.