Riding the Wild Wind
By Gregory Troxell
—After Frederic Remington’s A Buck-Jumper (1893)
Reaching high with one hand,
He grabs a fistful of wind
And it bolts him into the air,
Face to the sky,
He scrapes the white belly of an indifferent cloud,
And strains to bring his other hand ‘round,
To tighten his hold, and buck up his hope.
He spins, and there’s the ground! Then gone in a blink!
Now the hurricane swells, and with twice the strength,
Spins him flat so the sun spikes his eyes.
He’s riding the wild wind, now and forever,
As the sky and the earth reverse,
Then right themselves, then back, and over again, then over . . .
Panic and joy joust for control of his soul
As the ground and the sounds fade away,
And shooting toward heaven he feels nothing, hears . . . nothing.
And then, as suddenly as it all began,
It ends, as the rock hard earth finds its mark,
Slamming his back and stealing his breath.
Pulling himself up, he studies the stallion,
Prancing victoriously to be free of him.
Slowly he threads through the fence, smiling to hide the pain,
But his heart is already rising on the wind.
To view an image of A Buck-Jumper, click on
From Gregory Troxell: “I am a veteran and retired corporate attorney living in the Indianapolis area. I enjoy writing poetry and short stories and I am currently working on a novel about a civil war veteran struggling with PTSD. I have been published only in professional journals including The Electricity Journal, and the Indiana Law Review.”