Posted tagged ‘poetry’

Happy New Year

January 1, 2017

January 1, 2017. New Year’s Day.

2017 is a precipice that I can’t see across or below.

Distracted and without focus I stumbled through the ravine of 2016 with Jigs at my side. Together, we got through, despite my obsessions, despite my fears.

Worried about saddle fit we acquired our 6th in as many years. The last two saddles were too big for us both. This time I went with the western tree with English rigging. It’s much easier to girth up and puts even pressure on both sides. I think this one will work once I figure out the shims.

And because I’m impatient, I purchased the one in stock- the one with a blue suede seat and bling. So not me. But in November I threw caution to the wind and purchased a matching blue headstall. Jigs looks handsome in it. Add an orange pad and reins for hunting season and we are a color rush team. Getting outside of my comfort zone was healthy.

Jigs is 14 this year. We are entering our 8th year together. A long-term relationship takes commitment. We have our disagreements, but always have each other’s back. This fall was especially hard. Commitments kept me from the barn too many nights and some weekends. It is one of the reasons at this point in my life I must board.

Horses don’t care if they are ridden.  They are content if there is food, water, and good pasture. Do they notice when their humans are not around? Based on my own observations, I believe they do. When I’m away for an extended period, I hear barn tales of “naughty” Jigs. A few weeks ago, when I was unable to get to the barn for several days, Jigs let himself out of his stall and helped himself to a bale of hay. He tried to sneak back into his stall when the barn manager arrived. He knew.

And he knows the sound of my car. I often find him waiting for me at the gate while the other horses graze in the back of the field.  He will leave his herd and run to me when I call. And then there are those days when he is sleeping in the field and doesn’t get up when I go to collect him. It is comforting to think I am not considered a threat. I usually sit by and wait for his nap to be over. Why rush when the pasture is full of sun?

So, yes, it is mutual relationship, with give and take. Whatever is over the precipice, I cannot see now, but I am optimistic and full of hope for what is there.

jigs-getting-a-drink

Turkey Trot Myles Standish State Forest

Seasons

October 3, 2013

– for my red pony

We leave hoof prints

in the soft mud

of early spring,

before the bursting

of bugs and buds.

Summer rises

to meet us as we soar

the green field toward

the blue parachute of sky,

never reaching it.

Yellow stalks of corn

clatter in the wake of autumn

leading us to white fields

of snow, barren, but

flecked with rainbows

of light and memory.

– apaul 2013

Image

Sexual Healing

June 26, 2010

Some have forgotten
your name, but I see
your many faces
in the flowers
strewn by roadsides
and across fields.
Like the hips of young girls,
their petals sway in the breeze,
calling to the bees,
and they come.

Yet you are
a cavern fringed with Winter
and we are bears
sleeping through long nights.
In your wisdom,
you leave us
so that we may come
from your dark
into your light.
For like us,
you are a bear
and we your nursing cubs.

This Earth is brown and green,
and when water breaks
from the sky: blue.
Like great thighs,
your mountains call us,
and we come.

apaul