It is not only those of us who love horses who encounter the world in fits and starts, false starts, spooking at shadows we have seen before. The familiar unfamiliar that makes us jump, prey that we are or fear we are before the imagined predator. There are moments in a clear day when suddenly anxiety descends—wordless, shapeless, formless—and the calm evaporates. Our coherence is diverted and we are left alone to guard ourselves. In Vicki Hearne’s poem, the narrator has stolen the attention of her horse with her chatter. How do we steal our own attention with the chatter of our inner voice? How do we replace the nervousness with calm?