Grounded

“He has good feet,”
I’ve been told more than once.
“No hoof. No horse.”
so thank goodness.
A white hoof is a bad hoof
but that’s just a myth.

I find humor in a hoof
scratching behind an ear.
I swear at a hoof
that lands on my toe.
I feel the warmth of a hoof
lifted and placed in my hand.

I take comfort in the solidness
of his stance.
But I also know the drop
when a foot catches and sends him to his knees.
Or the time when gopher tunnels collapsed
swallowing up hoofs and legs in one gulp.

But even those times
he’s carried me centered
until he could rise up again.
And I wonder,
because I’ve been dumped quite a few times,
how we manage this balancing act.