We became strangers. I thought I knew her so
well; that place just back from her ears where her
mane flips to the other side. Her slow half-closed
eye resting in speckled shade, head low to the
flank of a gelding. Her outline in moonlight blue at
the night feed, the horse from my childhood dream
in my own barn, as solid as hooves on dirt. But in an
instant, she swung her hind around with a hard snap,
head high, a sudden snort clearing her nostrils as she
dropped the weight of domestication, her hooves sliced
the air, her weightless body wild to instinct. The herd
lifted their heads from hay in metal feeders, ears cocked,
muscles ready for flight, heeding her alert. A scent on
the breeze? Something I cannot know that she cannot
ignore, an emergency message from ancestors warning
of danger and betraying any certainty I had imagined.
…
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
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Published on August 12, 2019 05:08