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Answering the Breeze

The wind begs us to play

A warm breeze buffets my hair and face.

It first invites, then challenges a response.

The breeze calls to my horse.

It tugs at his mane and plays with his tail.

He tosses his head and beseeches me to reply.

His hooves tap impatiently at the earth.

I sit still on his back; try to ignore the invitations.

But yet, I am not immune to the calling.

A quick, concise movement, I shift forward.

My horse has his head.

He bounds forward with joyful abandon.

We chase the wind, heads together.

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