DYLANA Poem by jeannemarie coultermy favorite buckskin, he was solid gold with black points...superbDYLAN dylan was a buckskin, another $100.00 horse, my husband bought him for me from billie, the feed mills bookeeper, he was named dylan because he looked so much like matt dylan's mount on tv's gunsmoke he was 24k gold, like the locket my grandmother gave me, with a thick black mane and a white blaze on his face he was big, over 17 hands at the shoulder, too big for grandmother’s saddle, the one hand made for her when she was 9 the one i learned to ride on, the same one that had been handed down from grandma to my mother to me gracing the backs of many fine horses through so many many long years and traveling from the high plains desert of wyoming through utah and idaho into oregon and then to me on the ranch along the consumnes river in california too small for dylan’s golden dappled back i had to use great grandfathers hand tooled custom made saddle, with his initials carved into the leather i was never quite comfortable in that saddle, it was designed for a man not a woman, and yet even though it hurt a bit still i loved to ride dylan so filled with boundless energy yet so easy to handle he was dressage trained like the famous dancing horses of austria and i never quite figured out the signal that would send him leaping into the air like a jumper over a high timber fence, where there was no fence, he was just dancing with exuberant joy, because of a request i did not know i had made, in a language only he knew a language of infinite joy an explosion of choreography created by a trainer i never met an experience so fantastic, i cried for days, when he passed out of my life grandma’s saddle was stolen not long after dylan died and i wonder even now great spirit of the horse is there a cosmic connection... © 2015 jeannemarie coulterReviews
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2 Reviews Added on August 18, 2015 Last Updated on August 18, 2015 Author
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