Grandy Teaches Me to Ride

Tori— in the last stanza I am trying to show (not tell) the feeling of ecstasy that happens when you canter on a horse. it’s like nothing else! Does it come through?- ALG. I have several good photos of White Socks to include with the poem for the book

Grandy Teaches Me to Ride

White Socks inhales – his trick to loosen

the saddle – exhales after the cinching.

Grandy cinches up the saddle again with a chuckle,

gives White Socks love-pats on the neck.

Grandy boosts me up, my leg swings high

over the back, I settle into the saddle, excited.

He adjusts the stirrups to my long legs,

shows me how to weave the reins in one hand

around my fingers.

Holding the leather lead, Grandy

guides White Socks around the farmyard,

walk, walk, walk.  He teaches me

to drape the reins on the horse’s neck,

left or right, like turn signals.

Soon, Grandy lets me ride on my own. He watches.

White Socks walks at first, then quickens to a trot.

I bounce up and down, my teeth rattle,

I grip the saddle horn, hold the reins tighter.

You’re doing fine, he says.

Grandy urges me to lean forward,

and gently squeeze White Socks with my thighs.

The horse shifts into a smooth

rhythm, a canter. I begin to sway,

like riding waves, up and down.

Grandy instructs — Relax, flow with the gait.

Be one with the horse.

I find my balance,

the rhythm of forward and back,

feel power under the saddle,

the drum of hooves beneath me,

wind on my face.  

Grandy calls out across the pasture,

You’re a natural on a horse.