Mirage or Mustang

Mirage or Mustang

Desert sun drives them to water,
I hear them coming at full speed,
Blacks and bays, paints, and palominos,
and a big roan mare in the lead.

Clouds of dust boil thick around them,
this is a sight not many see,
They circle twice, then come in closer,
sneak a drink so cautiously.

I’m hid up here behind a boulder;
I don’t move or hardly breathe,
If they knew that I was watching,
they’d all turn tails and quickly leave.

Some gravel shifts beneath my boot heel,
she senses danger in the air,
Whinnies once to warn the others,
she can’t see me, but knows I’m there.

Then she snorts to claim her baby,
calls him to her inside flank.
Turns away and leads the others
right straight up the offside bank.

Heat shimmers off this desert,
it’s hard to tell fiction from fact,
It’s hard to tell – mirage or mustangs,
in the mud is proof – they left a track.

© By Charlotte Thompson