© April 2013 by Ani O.
I’ve hooked my horse up to a cart
a couple times, for fun.
But when she ran and flipped the thing
my driving days were done.
One horse can be tough to handle,
I can’t imagine two.
And if they want to scrap and fight,
Whatever would I do?
When the horse was transportation
back in days of old,
there were men called Teamsters,
worth their weight in gold.
There are teamsters still today,
who can center a team of hosses.
You see them flicker back their ears,
They’ve learned who the boss is.
The Teamster sees potential in
this pair of such great pow’r.
Teaching them to pull together
for a needful hour.
I see a lesson here for me,
as I look upon my mate.
Sometimes we fight and scrap ourselves.
We don’t cooperate.
We want to go our selfish way,,
We each think we’re the boss!
The Master comes and talks to us,
a teamster to his hoss.
He lengthens here and loosens there,
our tugs and fills so knowing,
showing us that He’s the boss,
and He knows where we’re going.
And so He centers us, His team
with a voice that’s full of care,
reminding us that we’re a match.
and His beloved pair.
My mate and I, we are a team,
through good or stormy weather.
We lean and pull at His command,
and so … we pull together.