Heat and Horses

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Two days too hot for two-bits riding even though the body craves the burn.

It seems weak to skip what you crave, but to pay with dizzy, panting illness places doubt on the thing. Shivering shakiness doesn't even out the playing ground, doesn't pay the price of loving to work that horse and self.

Even wet hair, neck, armpits, even reflecting helmet, sunscreen, shortest sleeves, even wishing doesn't keep wet skin to an even 98.6, not even bits of shade to share in bits. Not even tacking up in the cooler barn.

If wishes were horses, they say; if wishes were horses what a wide open plain there would be; full with horses running past, for I wish to be running with them, racing while sun and muscle and brain burn in health.

These degrees:
95,
100,
101,
pull reins, pull them to a stop; stop craving.
Flimsy thermostat breaks down til the day that weathermen say,
"Today,
go ride for today!"

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