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.
And then just ask for a little more. Too much and he’ll lurch on tense muscles. Ask with the quiet belief that when he feels his full strength , he’ll rise.
His 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.
From ‘Horse Woman’ by Anna Blake the poem Horse and Rider .