Wild Pony

Out
on the prairie
and down east (along
the coast) there are
wild ponies, occasionally
one sees a sign –
DO NOT FEED

I took
a risk, guided
my car roadside, and
searched remnants of lunch
for the saved afternoon snack

Much larger
than I imagined
I wondered, would he
charge, bolt, or bite –
and could he hear (even see)
my pounding heart as
I tentatively approached

Amazingly, he
leaned down
ever – so – slowly, as
I offered the apple

Overcome by
his gentleness
I nearly dropped it

For a moment
the world stood still
– and then
he was gone
(he was, of course, wild)