Fewer Days Like This - Dec. 23, 2025

today I am a young stallion released

in a field, accelerating to jump the fence,

breaking at the last second,

leaving four gouges in the grass

after a couple more insane scampers,

I’m tired and work my way back to the barn

thinking of hay and a thirst to quench,

most of the crazy out of my system

let’s face it, most of us make a fancy box

to live in: safe, predictable, comfortable,

but this afternoon, I needed to find release

and then there’s this poem that

dashed around a bit, returning home

with nothing to add, but an old face

looking out a stall window