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Hoofbeats
May 1, 2010
The smooth leather of the saddle beneath me,
The slight dip in his smooth back,
The tangle in his mane,
The flare of his nostrils,
The beat of his hoves,
The slight twitch of his ear,
The reflection of myself in his eyes,
The twist of his tail,
His broad shoulders and strong legs moving swiftly,
Until we are flying,
We become one moving creature,
Trampling all the clouds into dust,
The sun into sparks,
and the moon into rain,
Until we both grow tired and stop on the stars,
Holding each other in a warm embrace.
© Olivia E., Alto, MI
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