It's time get back on that horse. A student of mine wrote...
It's time get back on that horse.
A student of mine wrote a terrific poem about riding a horse during a thunderstorm--one of those Ohio summer storms that pop up out of nowhere and scare every critter in the vicinity out of their gourds. You know those.
I told her the same thing happened to me once. I was riding Genie, a high-strung little bay mare, in the arena at Red Fox Stables, and we had the big doors open for cross-ventilation; summers in Cincinnati can be so brutal.
The storm came up quickly. Rain pinged the roof and a huge gust of wind knocked over the big cardboard recycling bin we had standing right in the doorway. Genie saw it out of the corner of her eye and started to buck and spaz and work herself up, jerking all over the arena like a kid having a temper tantrum. She was so stressed she tripped over her own hooves and fell. Naturally I fell too--and was THIS CLOSE to getting crushed by her body.
Even at fifteen I knew I could have just been very seriously hurt. I was shaking badly. We got Genie back up, then my instructor held her head and said, very matter-of-factly, "Well, let's keep working." So I climbed back on--
which leads me to some good news about the Iron Horse Literary Review: one of my Charley Harper poems will published in the NaPoMo issue, plus I tend to work well in the spring, so I just need to keep working. Spring's nearly here.
A student of mine wrote a terrific poem about riding a horse during a thunderstorm--one of those Ohio summer storms that pop up out of nowhere and scare every critter in the vicinity out of their gourds. You know those.
I told her the same thing happened to me once. I was riding Genie, a high-strung little bay mare, in the arena at Red Fox Stables, and we had the big doors open for cross-ventilation; summers in Cincinnati can be so brutal.
The storm came up quickly. Rain pinged the roof and a huge gust of wind knocked over the big cardboard recycling bin we had standing right in the doorway. Genie saw it out of the corner of her eye and started to buck and spaz and work herself up, jerking all over the arena like a kid having a temper tantrum. She was so stressed she tripped over her own hooves and fell. Naturally I fell too--and was THIS CLOSE to getting crushed by her body.
Even at fifteen I knew I could have just been very seriously hurt. I was shaking badly. We got Genie back up, then my instructor held her head and said, very matter-of-factly, "Well, let's keep working." So I climbed back on--
which leads me to some good news about the Iron Horse Literary Review: one of my Charley Harper poems will published in the NaPoMo issue, plus I tend to work well in the spring, so I just need to keep working. Spring's nearly here.
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