Equine Therapy

Filling a water bucket

I am joined by a gentle giant,

who seems to like his water cold

as much as I do mine.

His chestnut neck so close,

I can’t resist stroking it.

Flattered that he trusts me

as much as I trust him.

I watch the water travel up his throat

and hear him swallow.

I watch his placid eye

as he watches me.

In the peace of a shady barn

the only sounds are of straw

disturbed by hooves and

the soothing cooing of a pigeon.

The smell of horse

inextricably linked

to memories of a

pony-mad childhood.

Eyes well with tears.

Is it joy?

Or is it sadness?

Just be with it…