On my Daughter Learning to Ride
Tue, 25 Aug 2015
She could barely walk, but
she must learn to ride, she says.
Still stumbles when she runs,
but astride the pony
she’s this winged, sunshine child
squeals with delight
the same as when I’d jogged her
on my knees, when we’d sing,
‘This is the way the ladies ride...
trit-trot, trit-trot, trit-trot...’
Holds tight to the reins
and I hold my breath...put
my faith in her young teacher –
her life in his hands as,
‘Again’, she squeals, then
calmly commands, ‘Walk on,’
as if doing it for decades – pony tail
streaming in the wind,
and so they toss their manes....
her muddied jodhpurs, the pony’s
soft pelt...its sweet, clover breath,
a host of delicious things, undiminished,
despite the mad march
of the years.