It’s not unusual to feel still
air rush over your cheeks and
past your ears. It’s you moving
forward in a bold waltz rhythm
that’s less domesticated than dance.
It’s perfectly normal to release
the earth and be held by intention
and hoof beats and a lesser degree
of gravity than what roots docile
human feet to mud and granite.
It’s the ordinary excellence of a
woman and a horse. Ribs expand as hips
surrender to the rolling impulsion,
closing your eyes just long enough to
feel the power in letting go. Canter out.