My Dusty

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a poem inspired by my Palomino Tennessee Walking horse, Dusty.

Let’s start from the top at the tip of his ears,
The two little signals of when he does and doesn’t ?hear,
His forelock falls evenly on top of his poll,
It was fluffy and cutest when he was only a foal,
As we move down his head we quickly approach his ?eyes,
They see all and learn all to make him very wise,
Has face is long and flat and stretches down to his ?muzzle,
He tells me he loves me with only a small nuzzle.
His lips are for feeling and eating his treats,
Grass and hay are two of the most important things ?he eats,
I follow the curves from his chin to his cheek,
Across his coat that is very soft and sleek,
He arches his neck into a beautiful crest,
Then lowers his head into my palm to rest,
The hair on his mane is long and flowing,
His beautiful color and markings are glowing,
His withers are set at the top of his back,
The saddle not in use is sitting on the rack,
The muscles on his chest protrude with great power,
His body, although massive, is as unique as a wild ?flower,
His shoulders narrow and lead down to his knees,
He is calmed by my touch and stands perfectly at ?ease,
The hooves on his feet are sturdy and tough,
He will be ready to ride without doubt soon enough,
Now back up his legs to his belly, also called his ?barrel,
I see a flash in his eyes of great fear or some peril,
He spooks at a bird and takes a few seconds to ?regroup,
His back arches up past his loins to his croup,
I slide my hand slowly across the point of his hip,
His build is broad and mighty like a tank or a ship,
The top of his tail is known as the dock,
Below it his leg leads to his rounded hock,
The sound of his hooves can give a child great fright,
His hindquarters are the source of his boundless ?might,
He stands straight and tall as I put on his pad,
I rest my hand on his neck, reassuring him it’s not ?bad,
As I approach with the saddle he gives a sideways ?glance,
I do not worry as he knows he must maintain his ?stance,
I reach under his stomach to grab the hanging girth,
He stomps his foot and a cloud of dust rises from the ?earth,
I pull the cinch tight and give it one last check,
I untie his lead and lay it over his neck,
I unhook his halter and slide it off the tip of his nose,
His ears perk up because he already knows,
I reach for the bridle with a slow, gentle move,
The bit fits just right and sits comfortably in the ?groove,
I put on my helmet and gracefully mount,
We step out of the barn, taking the brisk wind into ?account,
We ride on eagerly towards the trail opening ahead,
Never thinking back about where the old one led.


Submitted: December 01, 2014

© Copyright 2021 JessieS15. All rights reserved.

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