The Right Lead (Debra Meyer )

The Right Lead

« Debra Meyer »

He stood there in the dust and dirt,

 Sweat drippin’ down his face.

 “What is it you cain’t understand?”

 He then began to pace.

The bristly hairs upon his head,

 (The ones that still remained),

 Swirled crazily about his ears,

 His countenance was pained.

“The leads you take start at the hind,

 Then end up with the fore.

 You’ve got to set your horse up right.”

 He paused, then, offered more.

“To get the left, you cue the right,

 For right, it is reversed.”

 I watched him stride across the sand.

 His speech was well rehearsed.

I tried my best to catch each word,

 Translate them to my steed.

 Again, I asked him for a right

 But, got that damned left lead.

I tried at least a dozen more,

 With similar result.

 The trainer’s eyes shot t’ward the sky

 For heavenly consult.

“Well then,” he said, “we’ll try the fence.

 This has to work, you’ll see.

 Just run him at an angle with

 Degrees of thirty-three.”

“The moment that you reach the fence,

 The left leg gives a squeeze,

 The right leg lifts the shoulder up.”

 His orders flew with ease.

“Push your inside seatbone forward,

 The reins up t’wards his poll,

 Tip his head to the outside edge,

 Sit deep and let it roll!”

Though the trainer thought this simple,

 My brain was chuggin’ quick.

 Keepin’ up with his directions

 Was harder than a brick.

Was my inside seatbone forward?

 The angle thirty-three?

 I was runnin’ through the checklist,

 As ready as I’d be.

“Do it now!” the trainer bellowed.

 I took off like a shot.

 Was the right lead in my future?

 The left lead’s what I got.

“Wrong lead,” he sounded weary.

 A tear formed in his eye.

 We both hoped not to hear it, but

 He whispered, “One more try.”

That ‘one more try’ turned into ten.

 My trainer had some grit.

 He was sick and tired of preachin’,

 But never did he quit.

He took it from the top again,

 The A to Z of leads,

 Just yearnin’ for the harvest since,

 He’d planted scores of seeds.

His wits was workin’ overtime.

 To find out what was missin’.

 The answer finally popped in place,

 Some folks just don’t listen.

For me the lesson is quite clear:

 When next that I should ride,

 Instead of askin’ for a lead,

 I’ll let the horse decide.