They are Still Rounding up the Horses

My thoughts are often scrambled,
I have to unwind my mind,
A journey, for meditation.
Nobody knows it but a gate is fallen.

I started from the south,
A reptile with a kick,
And wind my way up east before north.
Reports of an equine escape.

My tangled trail unravels,
Past turbines, cities and seasides,
Into the land of fathers; ancient and beautiful.
Hooves stamp and echo amongst the engines.

I continue past food and mountains,
I stop
Red kites swoop and feed.
Twenty or so are loose, non injured.

Lakes and hedges pass and grab my thoughts,
The sun has moved, rise and release,
Hours pass and I pass ours.
Somewhere the road is closed, the police have arrived.

I have arrived,
Like a neat ball of wool,
Though I feel better.
They are still rounding up the horses.