Photo & Poem: Dwindling Light

 

His swayed back so warm in the late

afternoon but he doesn’t lie down. His

shoulders bear his weight without rest.

When predators come, he can’t be helpless

to run, not that his buckled knees could

carry him far. He ambles in for his dinner

alfalfa, belly soft, and while the other

horses tuck in for the night, he shuffles

quickly back out, the gate left open for his

escape, a cooling breeze lifts the scent of

sage crushed as he drags his hooves, his

limp is much worse in the cold. The gelding

pauses, stretching his neck low, sampling the

dandelions and marsh grass. Turning his neck

to gaze through the fence, over the pond to

a watery stillness and the sunset in his eye.

…

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

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