The wind through her hair as she rides across the field.
Across the field, across the creek, to the woods.
Her horse keeping up the pace she sets.
The branches whipping across her legs and face.
Her horse unharmed in the dash.
The wind picks up as the woods thin out and disappear,
Her hidden glade away from the city noises
Only noises from the hooves on the hidden path,
The horses' even breathing,
And her own heartbeat echoing in her ears from the dash.
On a trail never used, not known,
By any but herself and her horse.
Heading to a place to think alone in natures' glen
Following a trail unused.
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