I see nought but blackened walls
In a world forsaken by all.
Free, free, fly from these stalls!
I gallop and try not to fall.
Thunderous hooves – send me a squall!
Up, up, to heaven’s halls.
The farmer surveyed his land. The newly cut grass barely swayed in the breeze from the visible ocean not five miles away. All was peace. He turned and faced the door when a loud crash sounded from behind the house. He ran there, panting, and stared with widened eyes at a horse breaking through the wooden stall. The horse whined and shrieked, tongue licking the sudden torrent of rain and thunder, rose to her back legs and nearly howled to the radiant moon. No sooner had the farmer scratched his head in wonder before wings sprout from the horse’s back. She flew away, up into the sky, and disappeared.
“Never saw a horse do that before…” The farmer mumbled and took another sip of moonshine.
– F H Hakansson