I remember

The earth under my fingernails,

the warm smell of dirt and

something

living, breathing, calm.

I share the harmony.

Dim light of the flickering bulb

darkened by stall walls.

The calm,

only shattered, by the shrill whinny

Of our neighbour in the stall beside us

I startle.

The sudden tension beneath me,

in the nickering reply

Tranquil air softly broken

with breathing.

I sleep on the broad back.

Taking comfort

In my hands,

twined in coarse mane

Dreaming of hills red, gold, brown.