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.