The Sitting Horse

The dust was the first thing that caught my attention that warm August day. 
Through the veil, lit by the late afternoon sun, I saw him for the first time. 
The vaquero was trying to break him, and had him tied to a large pole in the
middle of the small training pen.  I had to pull over and watch, as this
beautiful black horse worked to preserve his independence under ropes and force.
  His body moved with  strength and grace, it was like watching an athlete do
ballet.  I made a mental note to check back on that horse one day, because
something was really special about him.

 The next time I went to visit, no one was around,  just this mysteriously,
beautiful horse.  Without hesitation, he came to greet me, although he did not
freely let me know him.  It was then I realized he was a stallion, and that
explained that energy that I could feel and see across the pasture.  I stood for
a long while, not attempting to touch him, only to let him smell me and feel my
intention.  I began to stop more frequently, and every time, we knew each other
more.

 Several weeks ago, I went there and saw the hired hands feeding the other
animals.  I motioned to them that I wanted to speak to them.  I was beginning to
fear that someone would report this crazy, horse stalker, and I would get in
some kind of trouble, so wanted their blessings regarding my new equine
visitation therapy.  The ranch manager said, “We know you, and so does the
horse, we see him come to you.”  I wanted to know more about him, and they told
me he came from Mexico, and they used him in the rodeos.  Well, I could see him
in that role, as he has so much chutzpa and spirit.  They told me I could come
and visit anytime and it was okay by them if I fed him an occasional carrot or
apple.

 Now, that I had their permission, I came more often, and he came to the
fence faster and faster.  I do not even know what the draw is, but it is real,
and it is strong.  I am  certain that  I am much softer and kind that what he is
used to,  and I am sure he has a curiosity about the red headed woman who comes
in the gold mini van.  Last night, I even went to see him in the dark, because I
needed to.   I wondered if he could see me, in the pitch black, but he was at
the fence, before I was.

 There is something about the simple act of visiting him that calms me, turns
chaos into order, and fear into strength.  When we are face to face, and I ask
him for nothing, other than his presence, it is a rare and perfect gift.  The
older I get the more I understand that old saying, “come sit for a spell.” 
Beauty, as I call him, gives me a reason to pause.  I just want to sit next to
him, while the cars speed by, and be grateful that I am sitting still, if only
for a moment.

 I think about the day I go there and he is gone and it makes me get a lump
in my throat.  Well, like all love affairs they come to an end, one way or
another.  But until our time is up, I will treasure every moment I get to sit
with him.
 
I had horses much of my life, but this has horse has me.