Free Riding This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

September 16, 2009
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The dirt crusted boots
Are placed in the dusty
Corner of the moldy basement
The horses’ scent still fresh
The teeth on the zipper
Caked, filled with dust

And then the phone rang
Screaming into the bright daytime
The call you’d been waiting for
As you blow the dust off the boots
And the velvet helmet

You show up at the lesson
The breeze smelling of horses
A welcoming homey sort of smell
You’ve become to love
And you are given a horse

You mount him in the ring
His bony back
Digging into your body
The freedom of no saddle
No stirrups, no leathers
Just you on the horses back
Reins clutched in your hands

And then you feel like you’re flying
The late summer sun on your back
The cool wind in your face
The hooves pounding the ground
Keeping rhythm

The dust flying up behind you
The adrenaline
Pulsing through your veins
Your hand on the horse’s mane
The outdoors feeling fresh

You fly, completely free
Bareback, cantering, soaring
And you taste accomplishment
Like never before





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