Looking for Horses

By Christopher Coffman

March winds blow 

foam and spray

from waves

that refuse to glint in the sun.

At the beach’s end, 

cables stretch 

between wooden posts.

Beyond the barrier is the promise

of an untamed herd, 

clinging onto the edge of a continent,

caught between the oceans 

and a sea of people.

Soon the wind starts

to bite and kick on its own.

We can feel the horses

out there, watching out,

looking for us looking for them: 

testing, snorting,

rolling their eyes white.

Despite their fear,  

or maybe because of it, 

the distances lessen, 

and, suddenly, 

they are all around us.