Yesterday evening I had an opportunity to observe a friend’s riding lesson at a local equestrian establishment. Though I had little to no idea what all their vocabulary meant, it was still a great chance to experience something new; and to see such beautiful creatures up close and in motion. And so I wrote a poem about the experience.
Puffs of pink and rusty dust
pop up and billow in the light
and lowly floating breeze.
Easing into a steady gait,
horse & rider trot along as
sinews glide—dust & hide
release their odors—
thick & musty mixed with
light & chalky motes of
citrus, creosote, and every so often
a whiff of flower-flung pollen.
Pink & Burgundy dominate this scene
—both in sight and in scent—though
ebony gives way to deepest caramel as
flanks fade into haunches. A hare
hops tentatively by my chair—
keeping a sharp eye on me—
though I am the least of his worries
with beasts of this stature so close.
The thoroughbred shivers & shudders
occasionally as his rider releases him
from martingale, bridle, reins, saddle, bit;
and at last the pure and unladen creature
stands tall and tosses his mane in the wind.
As always, thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you again soon.
Cheers,
W
