Caspar is a great jumper
but all who try to ride him
end up in his favorite ditch.
At last it is my turn.
From the quietest place in my heart
I tap into his will and his need,
at one with the pulse of his breath
as he gallops across the fields.
This poem first appeared in Alabama Literary Review (Vol 21. No.1, 2012).
Used here with the author’s permission.