Saddle Prayers by Debra Fair

Ears, fuzzed for winter, flicker back and forth,

waiting for reins to rest on the saddle horn.

Impatient snorts wait as I loop the leather

and let go, placing my hands on my hips.

He takes the lead, plodding along the fence,

scattering cottontails and blue jays in the brush.

Hemlock branches shade the riding pen,

cooling drops of dust and sweat on our brows.

Swaying with his stride, I breathe. He breathes.

Without a word, I trace a cross in his coat

and cry my silent saddle prayers

as ears, fuzzed for winter, flicker back and forth.