Sweet scent of sweat rises off Matuchi, that rich raw hide
of chestnut stallion allocated to me as if I could ride
bold confidence he leans down, bored, to munch on pampas grass
pulled forward, I compensate with patience
iron soles stomp, clomp familiar rocky paths echoing
crystal waves of sound through Polylepis dotted foothills
sneakered feet nudge past cordon cactus as we are lulled in a line
of dappled greys, white and brown, pinto and roan
through Argentinian Andes amateurs’ knuckled hands grip reins
while local horses stumble and trip, soles slip
sighs spill in tune with silence in the valley’s afternoon mist
trepidation hides behind walls of smiles, denim and dust
through an amphitheatre of pink sunsets and shadowy hinterland
sweat-soaked hides carry intrepid travellers back
to smoke-infused beef and red Malbec, Mendoza’s soul
salty decadence in the dark amidst mountains of lust
