Riding – Reading

The rider is either ahead or behind me,
on this tree-lined, earthen avenue
that stretches to the horizon.

The hooves of our horses,
pounding, pounding.

We draw abreast,
he hands me the baton,
a rolled scroll.

I ride and read,
his images go into and through me.

Another rider appears.
We draw abreast. I pass on the scroll.

The words and images remain.
I keep riding.

I hear more hooves approaching,
fading away,
by my side.