Horse Lord

anudariya-munkhbayar-V4qmxSYcuaU-unsplash
Photo: Mongolia; Anudariya Munkhbayar on Unsplash

 

The floods had culled the herd. The fires cleansed the land of dead, returned the grasses to the dirt, where bones lay, staring at the sky, unbleached. They will not be interred.

A falcon soared above their heads. It dove and disappeared, its freedom deferred, its sight hidden under the dark small caps it let have drawn over its vision in a servitude preferred.

The stallion whinnied. The yearlings, cocky and too young to know better, had cantered up ahead. They stopped at the sound of his impatience and turned about as their obedience stirred. But the mares and foals kept close on dancing legs. The smell of smoke still in the air rendered them simultaneously docile and quick to bolt, their reason blurred.

He knew why that was. The two-legged that had fled, have returned. And the smoke curling from the nostrils of their leather dwellings rose, awakening dread.

 

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Mongolia

 

 

Morning Manners

grooming Inbar Asif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

One cannot head to pasture

On a fine, chilly morn

Without checking to see if

One’s mane’s properly adorned.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Surprise

 

An Unusual Visit

My niece took this photo during a European hiking trip she’d taken with her brother. It always makes me smile. It also makes me wonder: Who had placed the mirror there, and why had they done so to begin with? Was this for the horse? Something tells me it wasn’t the first time for the equine to visit this reflection. What did the horse feel during the encounter? Was it like a visit with a friend? A hello to an apparition stablemate? A recognition of something or someone in him- or herself? Something altogether different and beyond?

grooming

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

For The Photo Challenge