Heel kicking horses, frolicking with fun,
freed from dark stables and into the sun,
clockwise and anti, riotous they run.
My spirit soars hearing hooves thud,
speeding out of sheds, God is good,
hoof imprints indent much messed mud.
Free spirits sing, unloosed from chains,
waving womanly, long shaggy manes,
soon to be saddled, bridled and reined.
Once I rode ponies, from Shetland I think,
black helmet, jodhpurs beige not pink;
thrown before jump, she didn’t even blink!
I value life and limb, stood up shaking;
- quickly I quit, no jockey in the making,
not a gambler, bets I wouldn’t be staking.
Every August, off I faithfully lone go
to experience the annual equine show –
tweed-attired riders, leather boots glow.