Stable-girl saddles up,
Quietly assuming
Her delicate balance.
No room remains
On this green horse
For these drab preoccupations
As her mind is filled
With stirrups and bridle
And reins and bit,
Buck and canter,
Jumps,
And posting-trot:
All demand total focus,
Or fall.
Active body, busy brain:
For her they sweetly mean
A forgetful heart;
Maybe this is why
She loves to ride.
.
I'd tell them, you know, if they wanted to know. I'd tell them all sorts of things.
I love the simplicity! Very lovely and soulful too. Even though it's melancholy, I like the little sweetness in it.
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