For The Love Of Horses, A Book of Poems by Renee Moomey

First Trail Ride

First Trail Ride

I'll never forget that first trail ride

On a horse I didn't know,

On a horse I didn't know was greenbroke,

On a horse broke three days ago.

Never tell a stranger you can ride.

I'd never left the arena or the paddock.

Now on open road, open highway

With ditches ten feet deep,

I was facing my incompetence

When I couldn't get her down the ditch

Or across the pavement.

I'd never ridden anything but pleasure.

Never really galloped. Isn't that a lope?

Not the person to ride a barrel horse;

I was stupid not to pick the old nag.

I chose the leopard appaloosa for her beauty.

Note to self: ask more questions before leaving the barn.

I thought trails were predetermined routes

Where one horse followed another

Like at Girl Scout camp

Where the only thing that I had to worry about

Was the fatty eating grass

When we should be walking.

That was a frustration I wished for

On that first trail ride.

I learned quick I had no balance

And not all horses give to pressure.

I found out I better cinch my own saddle

Or wind up underneath, almost.

I discovered they all run when one does,

And it resembles nothing seen in pleasure.

Next time, find the brakes first

In case lifting the reins doesn't work.

With white fists in her mane, useless reins,

I clung screaming;

She ran like a Thoroughbred.

I learned to use the stirrups with heels down.

Grandpa was right on that one.

I also discovered halters and leads

Are important on a break

Or else your bridle breaks and you don't.

I rode three miles back with twine and a bit

On a greenbroke horse

And had the time of my life.

          For Blue Mist Prixie, "Prixie"

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