No fear, suspended
in slow time.
Afterward,
recite your name,
say you’re fine.
Believe it.
Climb back on to prove it.
Ride along, wondering
how you got to Goose Creek –
if that’s the creek you’re crossing –
dressed in hunting clothes
on your good horse.
Obviously out hunting,
a member of the field –
know you should not ask
which pack – Piedmont?
Fairfax? –the yellow collars mean,
so you concentrate
on tracing back and get
to galloping piney woods,
the rail fence one stride out,
then remounting at the log
working to remember
until back at the trailers
you see it’s Lenah Farm
and Fairfax
you have been hunting with
and that’s when you remember
the peculiar squeak
of helmet around your skull.
Posted January 6, 2020
From a collection by the author being prepared for publication with the working title, Stride for Stride.