Friday, August 14, 2009



Excitement, pulse racing sitting
In the saddle, crowd cheering while
They await her and her horse's run
The smell of horses, leather and dust
Filling her senses with the arena's
Atmosphere as she awaits the moment
To start, then bursting forth, she makes
The three turns and spurs her horse to
The finish line, heart pounding as she
Awaits the time and score for her run
Her life is the arena and the horses,
The adrenaline and the thrill of victory
The pain is just a part of the victory
A part of the fiddler's price for listening
To the music that is pro rodeo riding
Then slowly life changes, motherhood
Reigns instead of horses reins she has
Turned a life corner and is heading a
New direction now, though she doesn't
Fully realize it as of yet, she still spurs
On toward the next barrel, the next
Turn, which she finds all too soon as
Her life reaches another turning point
As she had reached so many literal
Barrels, she now finds herself turning
Just life corners, but with some of that
Old enthusiasm and joy she experienced
In those arenas of yesteryear now gone
By leaving her with only methaphorical
Turns, and barrels to go around, points
Of her life where things like love and
Happiness are the trophies and buckles
The prize money, the smile on her boy's
Face and her slips and falls are life snags
But she holds onto that spirit, that gusto
And lives her life, like the excited beating
Of the strong heart of the horse who use
To turn her corners for her with such
Strength and dexterity, alacritous in his
Intent on winning and the run to the finish
Although life has slowed, she still looks
To the next turn, not with trepidation,
But with the heart of the champion
Which she was, and while others live
With soft caution and tones of grey
She spurs it on, in smiles that are like
Her bright clothes and with a love of
Life that charges out of the gate and
Excitedly heads to turn the next corner

Gene T.

(a poem for my friend, Bettina Fetzer Smith)

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