Trinity

Trinity

At times it’s hard to see the melded lines

           between the three:

horse, rider, heifer,

      moving in unison like synchronized swimmers,

a smooth school of salmon

     speeding, sliding, turning back as one

inside a dusty sea, full tilt.

The horse called Cat, shiny and sculpted,

   mane and tail splayed like thin fins,

 flashes through the gritty mist

       like the curve of a jumping trout,

playing for a piece of clueless prey.

The cowboy—the one who dreams

of one day winning the world—

            maintains his amazement at the meeting of minds,

the oneness he feels as his leg and hand

      transform into exploding equine energy

 when the three become one.

He feels powerful yet strangely honored

       to be a chosen one, to feel those few

magical moments of perfect harmony.

       At night he dreams of gliding through silky waters,

a chiseled trinity moving effortlessly,

     A drop of the hand, a slight nudge of the leg,

“Breathe deep and relax,” he reminds himself in his sleep,

                not wanting to awake to his mortal, aching self.

And as the tide lifts him to higher ground

      He drowns in the power of the cut,

slicing across the open seas to the title,

         yet already feeling like a winner,

A spiritual one, at least, with horse and cow

       in a timeless sea of dust.