Lightning Barbs

I’d ridden this way a hundred times, 
Up Monday Town along the fence 
Dividing wheat from perennial sage 
Herding cattle to summer grazing 
In Bear Hollow beyond our fences, 
Never liked it much, this shouting 
At bawling cows and shambling steers, 
Breathing their dust and smelling their hides, 
Never learned to enjoy a horse 
Or sit one easily, feeling mostly 
The thump and jolt — horse against me — 
Legs chafing and burning from salty sweat. 
I was riding my brother’s iron gray. 
Young and heady, she loved to run. 
I rode her bare, almost enjoyed 
Her patient walk or gentle trot, 
Her quick response to rein or spur. 

We rode together toward darkening clouds 
Crowning the Wasatch, hiding the sun, 
Up Monday Town into deeper dusk, 
To rumble and echo, then roar of thunder, 
To deep gray of rain running down range 
And over foot hills to reach the gate 
Where I could loose the cattle to graze. 

We turned back in rain, the gray and I, 
Galloped ungentle to get out of range. 
Behind at first, then all around 
The hills echoed thunderclaps 
Following hard on brilliant flashes 
That fractured the dark. Intent on travel 
Neither mare nor I expected 
The crack and spit of fire on fence 
Five feet away, much less the spit 
And chase of flame along barbed wire, 
Flame just pacing us along the top wire, 
Lagging behind on bottom wire 
But dancing the lead on middle wires 
Far ahead, dancing barbs of fire. 
She stiffened, jerked, turned her head, 
Eyes and nostrils torn with terror, 
Lighted with fire still dancing on wire, 
Then lunged for home. 

Close by or against the fence she ran. 
I felt the rip on pants and leg 
But lost the pain in a passion of speed 
Grafting my skin to skin of the gray, 
My body playing to rhythms of her run, 
All terror absorbed in a strange ecstasy — 
Sweet Jesus, the vital ecstacy! — 
Of her panic at frolic with electric reins, 
With song of thunder, spit and crack 
And dance of lightning, even with barbs 
Along the fence, ecstasy of riding 
This way the first time. 
                                                      We passed the corral 
And floated over the lower gate 
Before she fell into a gallop 
Then settled to trot then walk. I felt 
No urgency though rain still washed my face, 
Poured rivulets down my iron mare. 

I’m told the fence saved mare and me: 
Open rod to ground the lightning. 
But when I dream of lightning and horses 
And barbs of fire, nothing of terror 
Clings to that moment of crackle and spit 
Lighted with fire singing down wire, 
Renewing ecstasy, renewing union 
With more than mare or rain or barbs: 
With source of lightening.