The Palomino

Sitting on a private beach in North Carolina, I saw her. She was beautiful, mysterious, and strong. She was a Palomino. Her cream-colored mane flowed freely in the wind as she ran through the rushing waters of the sea. I could almost feel the ocean waters as they crashed up against her hoofs. She was beautiful in the wildest sense. She was free, untamed, unbridled, running with the waves of the ocean. I looked to where she was running, and the light shone down upon her from the lighthouse, illuminating her, making her Maine shine underneath a midnight sky. Swiftly she ran without fear. The waves of the ocean seemed to almost overtake her as she crashed through them. She was running toward the lighthouse. Suddenly, I realized that the palomino was me!


By: Bernice Bowling