May I always remember, no matter what comes,
that once upon a time I visited a place
where people rode horses across lush deep valleys
just to ride, crossing the wide, rocky creek at the shallows,
then climbing the trail through the leafy woods toward home,
the sound of the creek playing in rhythm somehow
with the clopping of the horses. A few birds called.
But except for that, there was silence, and warmth
and a breeze, and the world felt alive and perfect,
and watching the riders, I felt joyous peace.