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Mustang Hoofbeats By Judy Wrangler


I remember the day I ran with them Red Rock’s most amazing feature. O’er the hill we came, and there they stood. These incredibly magnificent creatures. My sweet ole Arab ran into that herd Of palominos, buckskins, and bays. They scattered and scampered as we hung on, And ran with them quite a ways. Their hoof beats echoed off red sand walls, As the dust curled into the air. Their muscles tightened, their manes unfurled And their nostrils began to fl are. Now, this is their home after all, It was we who invaded their space. So is it any wonder that My ole Arab and I lost that race? The herd gathered up on a nearby hill, The stallion, his foals and mares. As my Arab and I walked quietly away, We were followed by their in- quisitive stares.


I have returned to this spot many times since.


In search of this remarkable breed


Who for many centuries have been roaming this land,


And running these hillsides so free. So, before it’s too late and they’re all gone


Go out and watch the dance


Of a foal at play and the smile within


Which you might observe by chance.


We humans could learn a valuable lesson


About living with such dignity and grace.


They show us no violence, prejudice or contempt


As we trespass through this place.


These are God’s creatures, not ours to control


A gentle lot, proud and strong.


And if you think that they don’t care You couldn’t be more wrong. They must stay free and majestic


Not gathered up and put into stalls So the future can witness God’s miracle.


Hoof beats echoed off red sand walls.


Copyright 1999 Judy Wrangler. All rights reserved.


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