Trying to figure things out...

...is not one of our slogans, I was told.

Why do I ride?
It's lonely without good curious rider friends,
curious about every part of riding. 

Why do I read about architecture?
And the British Monarchy.

Why do I wonder and puzzle over relationships?

Who will call?
Tell me lots of fascinating stories about horses 
and do I want to go riding with them.

Is the purpose to work towards
anything besides improving my skills?
There is only so much intimacy with horse and trainer. 
So solitary, though intimacy is what I crave.

Round and round the arena.
Getting a bit better at balance and posture.
But is there more? A point?

I think this has something do with this year's many endings.
Dogs, trees, hair color.
White hair has me trying to recognize that woman.

And figuring things out leads me astray;
weak with obsession, it pulls me in again.
Shaky hands are proof of failure to comfort.

Baby holds my heart, but she cannot be my all.


I thought I heard a dog sigh tonight.
There was no dog.
There were no children to help with the Christmas tree.


...