Thursday, October 26, 2017



It was always a pleasure seeing the world
between his expressively curved ears
displaying a steadiness, an inquisitiveness,
a thankfulness for leaving the arena,
the endless circling around.

A curved path excited him,
the rustle of leaves, even the squirrels
seemed to delight.  He didn't mind
venturing out alone with me.  I'd sing,
he'd clip clop along non-judgmental.

He was half Arabian -
could go for hours without tiring.
I'd get lost daydreaming -
he'd take advantage; snag a leaf or two.

We'd often arrive home just before dark.
Bathed in barn light,
I'd scratch the whorl beneath his forelock,
lean into his neck as he tucked into his grain,
fresh straw fluffy beneath our feet.

by Margaret Bednar, October 26, 2017

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Artistic Interpretations".   The moment I saw this painting it made me think of my horseback rides on my childhood horse, Rusty.  Even now I recall his eagerness and excitement to see what was around the bend - He was a good horse - He was never barn sour nor did he mind going out alone with no other horses; many horses are spooky and can't be trusted.   My favorite time to ride is in the fall when the forest starts to open up and rays of light hit the trails and one can see through the trees a bit - makes it less scary for a horse too.


Susie Clevenger said...

What a lovely place for a ride. I so admire people who ride horses. I never had the chance.

brudberg said...

Somehow when I read your poem I start to think of Robert Frost, both the yellow woods and miles to go... lovely