Wild words

My words careen around the field, tails swinging
I try to corral them into freshly mucked rhymes
But they just run around faster
I bring out a rope to lasso them
But they evade mocking me
I start to get mad and yell at them
But they slide to a stop on the other side of the field
Exasperated, I sit down on a bale of hay
And watch the sun go down and my words
Traverse the field toward me, bend their necks
And I am intoxicated by their wild golden manes
As they take off again in a cloud of dust

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