To be a cowboy

feel

every part rooting

dully

The feet and hands must talk

Sinking into the saddle

Moving along

Mirroring the ripples

It makes with each gate

legs then chest

Seat softening with each stride

engaged

Opening and switching

Closing and changing

Always moving

The cowboy must adapt

He is the riden

Riding the rider

Who feels the ground, pouncing beneath

his crescent hooves.