Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole

Wild horses walk the length of route 611
As cars speed past
barely registering
the wild sitting on that boundary

They live on the beach
Unafraid of humans
Domestic enough
yet wild enough to roam in self-contained
captivity
A light dose of
free will

I slept under the stars those nights
With the moon beaming
Large and round
So close to me
Accepting the paradox of mustangs and roses

My tent unzipped like half melted ice cream
The flipping fabric following the wind
Screaming zipper--
a small inconvenience
After all I was
open
to sticky ocean air

Tucked like a petite hourglass in a red bikini.
My dreamy eyes stayed on the water
Knowing the horses won't judge

Warm solid mist rolling out of
Deep nostrils
Lips vibrating in the exhale,
nickering

I wait for gooseflesh to hit my skin
Wrapping my arms around my chest
I breathe out
and walk to my tent