Riding Horses With Dad

I weave through the rocks of a rough winding trail Up through the boulders and sage Following a ridge to the top of the hill I'm a young girl, who's coming of age I am sitting astride a strawberry roan My Dad rides ahead in the haze Climbing the crest, they're sure-footed, and know of a place to take rest, where the horses can graze The clouds pass over, like ships setting sail Casting shadows on the valleys below The sky wears a palette of rose colored, pale Our pace resumes, quiet and slow Our voices are silent, all our words have been said Just a whisper of bird wings, and a wisp of the chill Our thoughts take our eyes, to a sun, scarlet red Where it soon disappears, far over the hills My Dad goes ahead, and has taken the lead Lost in a mist, my eyes try to see My mare tries to follow, and everything blurs We continue our climb, to reach forest timber Are those voices I hear, or just birds in the air? Up he goes on the trail, on his faithful old steed, like a dream fading into the clouds.. He is smiling, my Dad,.. on his red sorrel mare, .......while I stay behind to remember _________________________________________________ 6/19/2009