The old-timer said, "The best thing for the inside of a kid is the outside of horse." I certainly believe that, I enjoy horseback riding to the point that sometimes I lose track of time. This poem is called, "Horse holiday." I had to go to work, but it was still early yet, a thought came to my brain and soon my mind was set. I calculated minutes as the morning clock I had and thought, "Hey, I've got time to get in a horseback ride." It would have to be quick, but I'd miss time on my horse, we just been too damn busy to getting a ride, of course. The weather would get hot, all the forecasters say, so it just made sense to ride early in the day. I got my gilding saddled, the day was nice and clear, a great day for a ride and a pretty time of year. I rode on down the lane, went to check the upper pond and took a Flint Hills trail of which I'm very fond. We lingered in the valley, detoured through the glade and followed that annual path which the cows or deer had made. We enjoyed the hilltop view with its panorama best and then I checked my phone, "Holy smoke." Two hours past. I'd enjoyed the pleasant ride in the morning hilltop climb to the point that I had totally lost track of all the time. I gulped up to the barn and unsaddled my old hoss trying to think how I'd explain this to the boss. I hurried into work to meet the office norm, but they said, I had to fill out some type of leave form. There were different kinds of leave from which I had to pick but it's not like a vacation and I surely wasn't sick. I considered making up some kind of Farfetched story, but instead, I created a brand new category. After thinking how to say it in a way they would believe under other, I wrote in two hours of equestrian leave. Happy trails.