As the horses ran down the mountain like a ragingsand storm, I knew I was in Wyoming.The swift, creek water was mint in my mouth.I felt sandpaper as I touched the horse’s hair.

I turned around to see the trees of the forest swaying as ifthey were rocking their leaves to sleep.Everywhere I walked I could smell the scent of theflowers like the perfume of a beautiful women.

I found myself crying as I watched the beautifulhorses run across the plains beatingtheir hooves to a strong, clear beat.