ride this high 'till it runs out

a brief spiel on jumping (on horseback).

it's like a high,
almost,
when your fingers are buried
in the coarse hair of their mane,
and your heels are slipping
against their sides,
and your entire body
leans forwards with
anticipation,
brace for impact,
as you approach
and take flight,
dirt leaping
and your hair is thrown back
and then
you land,
and
its like everything's
right with the world,
because you did it right,
and it's done.
and there's an almost
palpable feeling
of excitement,
and you're vaguely
sad that you're not doing it again,
but it's overtaken by
what feels like
satisfaction,
and you managed to breach
a species barrier
just for a moment,
and you were part of
your horse.

and then you walk,
you just walk,
to cool down
and come down.
you take them
back to their stall,
coo praises
as you untack
and brush.

but there's always
the memory of wind whistling past your ears
and caressing the
dips and shallows of your face.
and,
for just a split second,
time stopped,
and you
were
one.

The End

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