Rhythmic sounds of the caveletti poles being moved back and forth to match the gate of my latest pair. You can cut the tension with a spur in the arena on my ranch. The muscles strain and blend together. Equine and human. I can feel the bend of their necks with my eyes. Smell the give of their mouths and the softening between my fingers from fifty feet away. You may tell me all you want. Honesty is told in the eyes of the horse. Pure effort and raw talent is my specialty. I know your muscles better than you. I know all eight hundred pounds next to you like the back of my hand. Now lets see if you have what it takes to become a rider. Not a passenger.
