A Moment of Perfect Time

It was the squeak of well worn leather

that added to life's tune.

As horse and rider moved as one

beneath a silver moon.

A gentle breeze did softly brush

through greying hair and golden mane.

As the scent of pine and wild plum blossom

mingled with the fallen rain.

The winding trail was more of memory

than seen in this pale light.

So he who rode let loose the reins,

trusting in the other's sight.

Then as the well known rhythm

at last began to ease the mind.

The rider's body drooped a bit

in the place he'd longed to find.

For there upon a moonlit trail

a soul could venture free.

Caught in between the vision clear

and that dimly seen.

And when a brilliant flash did streak

just above tree line.

The two did share with wonder

a moment of perfect time.