Copyright ©2004 Cow Camp Missy

Depending on the moon, Rain Rider guides his horse
In perfect light, in special moments, always . . .
Like all other gifts from nature. Perfect. All ways.

"Why?" the young man asked. "Why now? Why me?"

In hoof beats the answer came
Pounding thunder-feet below, lightening wild above,
The Viarsjnås re-filled herself from open skies
And through darkest darkness . . . they galloped on.

But the young man's coat could not serve him.
No, the young man's heart had un-nerved him.

Wet, torn threads flapped behind and
On he galloped ... wet and torn ... sweet gallop
Salty mix of sweat and tears.

A sudden slip, long slide, the struggle up
White knuckles grip slippery reins,
Rain Rider presses on . . .
Stride after stride, changing on the inside.

Cow Camp Missy