The sun was rising higher and higher.  
As I slung more items into my backpack,
My hands moved quickly with anticipation of my adventure.
Water, sandwich, a small blanket and
of course a carrot. No, maybe two.

I ran out of the house with my bag draggin,
snagging the chain on my out of the
kitchen, nearly toppling the chain and spilling 
my lunch.

Setting the chair, I made my way outside,
down the steps, two at a time and across
the lush, cool grass.

I slung my back pack onto one shoulder
then the other as I grabbed the
leather reins and stuck my left boot
into the stirrup.

Once settled into my saddle, I 
pulled the reins onto Gyp’s neck as I
softly squeezed my heel into her side.
We were off.

Gypsy and I had these adventures almost
every weekend.  During the summer, only
farm chores stood in the way each day
as another adventure was on the horizon.

I called to dad as we galloped
down the back path that I would be
back later.

I never heard his replies as
the sound of hooves
beating into the dirt path, the warm wind
sweeping past my ears and my
mind completely drifted off.  The only sound
above these that I heard as we moved 
as one was my own heartbeat.