EQUESTRIAN FIASCO
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Poem:		47056
Serenity lies in these woods. Placidly, our steeds take us through the hilly brush. All, that is, except for one: Doc, The “moody” one. He is old, cranky, And just the slightest bit resentful of Mankind. We start down a steep slope, one after another. But not Doc. Doc likes to gallop down mountainsides in northern Georgia with a novice rider on his saddle. Suddenly it’s Johnny versus the Devil for hell hath no fury like a stupid, stubborn horse. And so begins a struggle betwixt man and beast! One is vying to break free of the bonds of domesticity, the other to stay alive! Until finally, a crash. Horse and rider separate. And to me, the rider, there is but a blur; Sky ground boulder hoof sky ground boulder tree stump sky, And then black. It is over. And I shall never ride again.
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