Being with a horse
After so many years of wanting to be with a horse
Sweet sweat, adrenalin, breathless, breathe — a mare
Simple.
Indefinable this perfectness, this fear, the rush, the sun and yearning
to be trust and trusted,
There are no real words
Clicks and hums and kisses and soft whispered nothings in your ear
your face, mane, flank
A nip on my elbow turning back to paddock
It doesn’t matter
I love you, love this, still, more.
This article appears in In The Green Room.
