Another Poem: Chico

With the nice cool mornings that we have had recently, me and my sisters have been riding our horses before we start school. It has been quite convenient, as the afternoons are so hot, and we really enjoy getting a nice ride in before we start out day. A few months ago, we bought a sweet cream-colored horse named Chico ("little boy" in Spanish- he is very small for a horse!). Over the past couple of moths, I have really grown to love Chico! He is so sweet, and I love the way that he rides (he is very smooth, unlike Turbo, our other horse). Chico will let us ride normally, bareback, and double on him! Horses, like people, develop personalities of their own. They all are different, and it is even an old wive's tale that they develop the same personalities as their owner (or their name! We have a horse named Stormy, and believe me, he can get a pretty cloudy temperament some times :). Because all horses have different personalities, they appeal to different people. Chico and me definitely work well together!

Chico's biggest fault is probably that he is a little bit buddy sour. This means that he would rather be with his horse friends than be working all by himself. Sometimes, while I am riding him, he tries to run over to Stormy and Turbo and stand with them. However, buddy sourness is something that, with time, like all other things, can be cured in a horse. You just have to work it out of them like any other bad habit. In this way (and many others!) horses are a lot like people. I think that's why they are one of the most lovable and popular animals all over the world. 

This is a poem that I have written about Chico. Please enjoy! Any comments or suggestions are welcome :).

He puts his muzzle right upon my cheek

And softly rubs it with his gentle nose

I touch his mane so soft, and feel his coat

So sleek and smooth, almost as white as snow.

With gentle hands, I brush his coat and mane

And toss my saddle up upon his back.

When once the girth is tightened and the bit

Is in his mouth, we’re done with all our tack.

I put my foot into the curved stirrup,

And pull myself into the barrel saddle

And with a click and gentle kick of boots,

We’re off, to fight imaginary battles.

We fly through wood and dale with rapid speed

His hooves they barely touch the ground that yields,

Its grasses for to pad his hooved feet-

A glittering and pointed sword I wield.

The rider and the horse become just one,

And all that can be seen is a white streak

The bond of love it holds them both together,

And all that they can think about is speed.

We dash through darkened wood, dodging the trees

And winding with the path of dirt we twist

And run, so swiftly through the shade and fog:

Our path unaltered by the heavy mist.

When once we’re finished with our lengthy run,

We come to screeching halt, together stop.

I swing my leg around him and I step

Off, onto ground to praise him with a carrot.

I pat his side and whisper in his ear

How much I love him, and together walk

Up to the barn where we will sit quietly

Where for an hour without words we’ll talk.