Whispers from the Tent 

That burst of poetry...

A horseman afoot is a wingless broken thing, tyrannized by gravity. I have often been astounded after a great performance by a horse and rider to encounter the rider afterward, a crumpled figure, negligible in every discernible way, a defeated aging little man; or a crone, where moments ago a demon or a fire queen filled us with obsessive attention. And even the horses are turned into weary pensioners as, with empty saddles and lowered heads, they are led to their stalls to rest. For that burst of poetry, horse and riders have one another to thank.

— Tom McGuane