The Chestnut Mare

Of all the things that I forgot

I am reminded of the spot

Where meadows wave upon a hill

With split-rain fences. Trees are still

And nestled in a darkened wood

Wearing its sleepy, leafy hood.

Tied to a rail my chestnut mare

Ready to go her back is bare.

I climb up, grab her by the mane

Riding bareback without the strain

Of a girth around her belly.

I know her body under me

No saddle on to separate

Joined together we leave the gate

Galloping, we move as one then

A bee bites her on the flank when

She bucks, throwing me off her back.

I lay there, my vision goes black

Having fallen in slow motion

I’m very glad she didn’t run.

Losing the hard hat that I wore

My fingers search for something sore

Her reigns in hand I head back home

To groom her with a curry comb.