Horses
By:
Nicole Busch
The sweet scent of hay, pounding of hooves on
the ground, so loud you can hear them in space.
Sticky sliced apples in my silky hands.
A sunny day, walking in the tall fields,
laughter in the air, like a giant, so
robust, galloping, frolicking far up.
Ripping through the electric golden winds,
looking at a horse of every color.
What’s that, on their chest? A piece of metal?
The brilliant light in the background, so bright,
yet overwhelmed by the fierce golden tones,
her majesty, cloaked in black, the leader.
Now its time to get to work, mind elsewhere.
thoughts focused on my horse, my baby girl.
The sweat beating down my covered forehead.
It’s a team of two; the rider and horse
each need to be ready, ready to go
ready to go together as if one.
The stadium fills up; cameras roll
all waiting to see me fully compete,
believing I can make it, now my turn,
Suddenly I’m soaring high through the air,
hands on her neck, I’m on top of the world.
The sound of her hooves echo my breathing
Now comes the long wait, watching others go,
secretly relieved if they stumble thru
and miss what came so easily for me.
The blissful tears of us winning first place,
we have done this together, she and I.
This is my place, a place where I belong.
No comments:
Post a Comment