Star

Then we began to ride. My soul
Smooth'd itself out, a long-cramp'd scroll
Freshening and fluttering in the wind.

~ Robert Browning

Bright Sun, Bright Star

It is the morning of the Summer Solstice. I rose early (for me) and padded sleepily outside to say good morrow to the sun. It shone brightly through a layering of clouds and as I raised my hands to the bright star, light rain drops began to fall on my skin and my clothes, touching my hair with a circlet of radiance.

When I was a little girl, my (arguably) favorite horse book, from so many, was Serilda's Star... It told the story of a young girl living around 1890 who "rescues" a starving mare from the knacker. The mare, under careful love, becomes this glorious beauty that Serilda could not be more proud of... the mare's name, of course, is Star. It's a beautiful story of the connection between a girl and horses, and I can't begin to tell you how many times I went through those pages, heart full from the love so elegantly put into words.

We weren't sure it was even going to happen - because apparently horse transport companies are very unreliable nowadays - but my own Star arrives at noon today.

Like the mare in the book, Star originates from a not so good situation. He was an Amish horse that worked for his daily oats harder than most horses can imagine working in this day and age. He's only twelve, but he's already gaunt and bony, showing age and wear on his noble features with a calm patience that fills my heart with this expectation... Amish horses are far from pets - do the Amish ever bond with their horses? Has Star ever had a gentle hand pass over his namesake's marking, fingers brushing against it in love and a deep rooted bond that only he and that person shares?

I'm breathless with anticipation... I'm nervous and excited and my heart has never beat so fast. I see him at five today... oh, how will the hours pass? I feel like a schoolgirl, waiting for that final hour to turn, so I can dash out of the schoolhouse for the summer - laughing and running and shouting until my heart bursts from the sheer joy of being.

Welcome, summer. Welcome, Star! Please, hours, pass!

Witching

When I bestride him, I soar,
I am a hawk: he trots the air;
the earth sings when he touches it;
the basest horn of his hoof is
more musical than the pipe of Hermes.

~ William Shakespeare, Henry V


There is something in me... something changed. Years ago, I had a treasure - and I locked it away. I put the thing in a chest, and I put the chest beneath locks and bolts and doors and stone. I never forgot it, but I willed myself not to think of it. I did, anyway.

Of late, I have heard the siren music again, so "witching and sweet..." I have found my way back in the stronghold, I have unlocked the locks and the doors and I am there again... I hear it now, loud and clear - calling me (calling me home). I hold the treasure box in my own two hands, and I am poised to open it. I can hear my heart beat loud and clear...

I silenced my love and desire for as long as I could. I walked the earth on my own two feet and learned of new passions and danced new dances... but each step I took, and each twirl on the floor made my heart ache and burn. I felt enchanted, not of my own design... I felt tethered.

There, in the box, is the means of my escape. There, in the box, is a way for me to unwind the cords I fashioned for myself. There, in the box, is my pair of wings. My love of horses.

On Thursday, he arrives (and I can hear my heartbeat, loud and clear). On Thursday, the trailer comes, and carried within is the dream that I dreamed when all was silent and still... the dream that came to me in the night when all else was asleep. A horse. A horse of my own.

I feel strange. We've never met. The pictures I received were blurry, the stories second hand. What will happen? How will it happen? What is his face like? How does he move, how does he breathe and dance, bits of poetry rippling and shining in sun and moonglow.

So I sit, and I stay in my dreams... and oh, I dream more and more... So many years since I fell in love this way. I am bewitched - I am enchanted...

On Thursday, the spell becomes reality. I fly without wings. I meet the horse of my dreams.

And my heart beats, loud and clear...

Heartbeats

Yesterday, I stood in the barnyard - sunlight was filtering on the patchy grass, stroking my wild and loose mane of gold, and the similarly wild and loose mane of the equine boy in front of me. His was ebony - a crinkly kind of hair that made him look impish as he sized me up, wuffling his approval as he placed a soft muzzle in my hand, against my shoulder and finally against my stomach. "I like you, too..." I whispered secretly into his ear, and began to brush him.

We had a conversation, then. It was mostly one sided. I brushed him until he gleamed, currying the dirty spots with an effective gentleness while I spoke to him of trails and woods - trees I knew and would love to introduce him to. He carried his end by occasionally nickering, lipping my hands and skin good naturedly. Finally, when I was satisfied with his coat, I saddled him.

First the pad, it must be perfect... then the saddle. I had oiled the saddle last week - it gleamed like his coat, and as I put the bit into his mouth, the headstall over his ears, I began to smile. It came from within - a genuine grin that I couldn't contain, and all of a sudden, I was giggling because his whiskers *were* ticklish, and he liked my neck and my ear of a sudden. Such a flirt.

I walked him to the center of the barnyard. It was quiet save for soft sounds - my Mother saddled her mare, bits of leather squeaked and metal clanged - a staccato that filled the area around us like the sunshine did. I petted the gelding's nose, and he seemed to say something, with his ears, with his head. But I'm relearning, and I couldn't understand the secret... not yet. He didn't mind.

I put my foot in the stirrup and eased myself up onto his back. It was effortless - it was a movement I had done thousands upon thousands of times before. As I settled in the saddle, he stood, proud. And in that second, it was sunshine and me and horse and earth and sky.

It was exquisite.