Where the horses are
Is where the wind is
Breathed in and snorted out
And manes are waving
Where the horses are
Where the thunder is
Stampeding across fields
Rearing, bucking, kicking
Over hills. Where the
Horses are is where the
Seasons breed summer golds
And spring foals; autumn
Bays and winter greys that
Decorate the pastures
Upon this turning globe
Where the horses are.
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