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As the horses ran down the mountain like a raging
sand 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 if
they were rocking their leaves to sleep.
Everywhere I walked I could smell the scent of the
flowers like the perfume of a beautiful women.

I found myself crying as I watched the beautiful
horses run across the plains beating
their hooves to a strong, clear beat.

Wild Wyoming Horses Gwen Deutsch
Gwen Deutsch, 12
Dubuque, IA