Tornado

The bay mare blew through the pasture like a cold wind. She stretched her long legs with each stride feeling the soft earth below her feet. In the Spring or Fall when the grass was moist and the earth held the rain inside it, the sound of the her hooves would have been muffled. Now, it was Summer and she thundered across the paddock- four feet echoed until it sounded like twenty four feet. The earth was hard and dry. It ached for a hint of rainfall.

She raced headlong toward the farthest end of the field. Like a tornado, her path was erratic yet relentless. She careened toward an unknown destination mindless of anything in her path and destructive in her velocity. There were a handful of horses who shared her enclosure- and they stood quietly watching the tornado mare race across the dry ground. In her wake, a cone of dust and debris swirled into the air only to settle quietly back to the earth a few moments later.

Just as quickly as it began, the burst of energy was over. The bay mare snorted once, slowed to a trot then a walk. The only evidence of her tornadic activity was the harsh sound of air rushing out of her nostrils as her lungs struggled to recover. And in moments, the paddock was calm and serene again.