Mustang Saga

Evening gloaming, night comes softly, its breath on my face.
Darkling sky, the storm-purple clouds embrace my bright smiling moon.

Blue Heron glides, like a dragon into the west, toward the last fire-pink light. 

A long glance from the eye of my silent friend as I lay a hand on his coat.
Contentment.
A stillness framed by motion.  A moment.
Quiet, peace, energy, healing.

I'm not much of a poet, but sometimes one must try.  Quite a night here, with my buddy Jasper, standing on this earth, drunk on this air.