Coming Unglued

“How’s the weather up there?”
The wrangler grinned up at her
through tobacco stained teeth,
and hitched his dusty jeans.
The fearful five year old pranced
on his long legs,
as she smiled in return.
The appaloosa was unnerved,
surrounded by a herd
of unfamiliar chestnuts, greys and bays;
they were low to the ground,
stocky, sane and tame.

Leaving the barn, he screamed his fear.
He tried to leave;
he managed to rear.
Ten minutes up the trail
it became clear
his mind was melting.
He tried again to bail,
but nose-to-tail,
he was trapped
between Cowboy and Lil’ Mo.
He dropped his nose,
arched his back,
and jumped like a pogo stick.
He bucked his spotted rump
towards the sky.

His rider landed hard,
back sore, throat dry,
pants pebbled and dusty.
He trotted in fearful circles,
eyes wide and wild.
She winced her way to standing
and calmly called.
He buried his face in her belly
and sighed.