Amelia and Chip the Horse at Bridlechase Farms

My daughter is posting. Chip is trotting.
It looks like they will ride forever beyond
the jumps and over the yellow lab, across
the dusty road freshly sprinkled with fine
Florida dirt. Perhaps they will fly together
into the overgrown field full of sand spurs
and biting ants, where I saw a flock of robins
filling up on berries. Three times in three months
she has fallen off that horse who is the color
of milky coffee. Her tailbone is still sore,
and sometimes she must encourage her left leg
to take its place here or there but her hair
sails out behind her and I cannot see the snarls
from where I lean against my hot, tender car
and maybe we will never braid it again. 
Look – she is carefree and I am outdoors and this
is our moment, a secret bliss that took such effort
to unearth but really it was waiting all along.

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