I saw you grazing in the pasture, your milky-cream coat dazzling high on rolling green hilltops and I had to know you. I walked to the fenceline and you came toward me without lingering, the certainty in your stride sent a rush of nerves galloping through my body. You reached your neck across the barbed wire and looked at me through dark glistening eyes. They softened me into confessing that I was bridled by my own fear, hungry to chew the reins off my heart, and hear the whinnying cry of my own wildness speak back to me. After nuzzling your face against mine, we parted ways, and later I learned you arrived on the ranch without a name. I thought about how that left you a bit wilder than the rest, nameless as in not yet belonging to anyone else. Maybe that’s what you saw in me too, a restlessness as I try to remember who I am without needing to give it a name.