Poets by Katrina K. Guarascio

We are not songbirds;
we are the wild mustangs,
the feral beasts
who thundered across the open.
We beat out passion
with untamed hooves
and scream our songs
like trumpets.
Leaving behind broken
larkspur and hoof prints
in the mountain mud.
We do not embrace,
but find familiarity
in our propinquity and
the gentle rubbing of noses.