Flight

As the horse begins to move,
I slip forward on the saddle,
To crouch astride the withers,
Knees tight against shoulders,
Feet high in jockey stirrups.

The stallion's pace increases
And the wind whispers in my ears,
Tugs at my hair and snatches
The breath from my lungs.

The hooves seem to strike the
Ground in a chorus of threes --
Karoom -- Karoom -- Karoom.
The vibration shakes my body and lifts
My soul into flight. I seem to move
Above the horse, weightless in the air,
Floating, flying, airborne, free.

The speed is exciting, vibrant,
And just a little scary. I cannot
Breathe, cannot capture the air to
Bring it to my lungs, but I am not
Breathless. I do not need the air.
My flight is effortless, floating
Tumultuous, ethereal.

Through the fabric of the reins,
I can feel the horse's mouth,
Feel the lifting and the falling of his head,
The stretching and contracting
Of the powerful muscular body.

Through the reins, the stallion
Brings me back, back to him,
Back to earth, back into contact
With the saddle. I sense the reality
And release the floating dream,
The effortless flight.

My weight in the stirrups once more,
I lift the reins, tugging gently
To bring the flying hooves
Back into contact
With the earth once again.

We were ethereal, of the heavens,
Both I and the stallion, flying, flying,
Flying without wings, effortless and free.

But now the earth reclaims us and
We once again tread upon soil and grass.
His strides slow, his breath huffs
From wearied lungs, and I straighten
My aching spine.

Even dreams, it seems,
Require effort.