Horse Play On An August Morning
Crisp morning air revealing hints of Autumn before heat of late-Summer day
Pastured horses energized by the coolth
From a complete standstill, one charges off into a section of tall grass
The first laying down a path for his herdmate to follow
Hooves and hearts pounding, but I can only hear the hooves
A frenzy of movement as they glide over the ground
The first in line cannot contain himself
He bellows out a squeal, jumps up and forward through the air
Just as the two forelimbs reconnect with the earth, two hind limbs kick up and outward
I ponder how that must feel
What strength to leap your 1000 pound heft off the ground with the grace of a tiny ballerina!
The games continue like this until collective energy is spent and the quiet grazing resumes
Quiet grazing that will provide the fuel for the next romp through the tall grass
I posted this poem last year. If you feel like you’ve read this before, you might be right! Fall is my favorite season. And although it is still steamy where I live, I enjoy the occasional crisp morning. They are a wonderful promise of the change of season to come. Watching my horses cavort on those mornings leads me to think they might feel the same way too.