The Jump

Six or seven and
my first time
on a horse--
an old thing
who ambled
and stopped
on his own.
Impatient for the
younger, faster option,
I traded the old gentleman
for my turn
on the rogue.
He wasn't, really--
only confused
by my amateur sawing
at the bit.
Pull back evenly!
They called from the fences
as Chico's hooves
thudded faster
and my best efforts
fell woefully short.
It was embarrassing, mostly,
so I bailed--
swung left leg over
and shoved off.
Given how fast he got
before my uncle calmed him
at the pasture's far end,

it was (probably)
the best decision
(other than preemptively
learning how to ride).

These days,
it is too easy to bail . . .
and I'm the one who has to
go and catch that horse.