Such an arc to his stride,
soft rhythm as his hooves
cut the arena sand. Sit
tall, rider, with balance
and broad shoulders. Fill
your lungs and share his
pride true. And just then,
ask for a little more. Too
much and he’ll lurch, tense
muscles. Ask with the quiet
belief that when he feels
his full strength, he’ll
rise, confidence undeniable.
A kind request, just another
inch, to lift across the line
from powerful precision to
the rare air of brilliance.
Ride the crest of his wave.
…
That’s lovely, Anna. It fits in perfectly with the Bubble series of blogs . . . which may be my all-time favorites of everything you’ve written! (Including Relaxed and Forward, which saved me and to which I still refer.) The reason is simple; the Bubble Blogs – catchy, that – and this poem are so clear, direct, so incredibly helpful. Thank you, from both Caesar and I!
You’re both welcome, Cheri. Thank you.
I could feel the ride if that makes any sense. Thanks
Thanks, Barbara, and I did, too.
Beautiful sentiment…always with the horse in mind!
Always, without them… we’re bipeds! 🙂 Thanks, Sharon.
This gave me chills Anna.
Thanks, Wendi.
Brings back memories.
Hard to forget a nice trot. Thanks, LinenLady.
Totally uplifting!
Thanks, Annie.