January 12, 2007

Three Metal Barrels

Erika my daughter is an accomplished rider. She has been my trail companion when no one else would go with me. Erika has helped tremendously in the horse training that we have done through the years. She has a lot of heart and was riding a horse that was cut out of the same cloth.

Three Metal Barrels
by Paul Kern

Three metal barrels wait in the sand,
Of the rodeo arena with a spectator stand.
Tractor and harrow smooth out the course,
Of cloverleaf tracks from the previous horse.

Straight in the saddle awaiting her call,
Sits a young girl ready to give it her all,
Her Duke can’t wait to get his cue,
She’d like to be first or at least number two.

For weeks they’ve practiced and done the drill,
They’ve picked up speed with nary a spill,
The horses ahead set a very fast pace,
For those that follow in this three barrel race.

“Number seven!” calls the loudspeaker man,
Now what was the time that other horse ran?
Not shabby, not bad but she still has a chance,
Of being the star of this four legged dance.

Bursting out of the gate kicking up sand,
A charge to the barrel on the right hand.
On the turn to the left it all falls apart,
Duke twists his leg while giving his heart.

He bucked up in pain and finally threw,
The girl to the ground when his rear leg blew,
She landed on her outstretched arm,
It was broken bad now, this had done some harm.

Her arm was set in a cast and a sling,
She’d mend in time and get over this thing,
But Duke’s leg persisted in being hurt,
He’d just drag it behind him over the dirt.

Erika healed but she lost her horse,
Duke had run his final course.
Though both horse and rider had taken a fall,
“Nothing left” is how a horse gives his all.

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