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Hoofprints
July 11, 2010
His soft muzzle,
nostrils flaring,
hooves crunching fall leaves,
trees leaning in,
a slight twitch of his ear,
pressing my face into his mane,
my heartbeat against his,
fingertips brush his coat like butterflies,
his tail swishing on the crisp morning,
eyes as deep as the ocean,
and as brown as the rich soil,
at first we trot,
one step after the other,
now we are running,
a blur as we pass,
all I feel is him,
the saddle is no longer there,
and,
together,
we run,
until the fall leaves,
and the cold air are left behind,
replaced by hoofprints across my heart.
© Alison L., E. Islip, NY
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This article has 4 comments.
Thesilentraven PLATINUM said...
on Aug. 6 2010 at 10:05 am
I loved this; it really made me smile. Horses are such beautiful animals, and you described horse riding in a wonderful way. Well done!
