The trails are gone,
hats above a sea of wild oats
like navigating ground fog
blind to rocks and ruts
in a slow gather
bringing tunnels together,
cows and calves. All the brags
of tying knots above the withers,
dally wraps around the horn,
ring tame and distant—
even the best broke horse
can’t resist temptation.
drycrikjournal 
Uncertain footing with snacks on the side
LikeLike
My first horse was a master of eating while walking. 🙂
janet
LikeLiked by 1 person