Filling a water bucket
I am joined by a gentle giant,
who seems to like his water cold
as much as I do mine.
His chestnut neck so close,
I can’t resist stroking it.
Flattered that he trusts me
as much as I trust him.
I watch the water travel up his throat
and hear him swallow.
I watch his placid eye
as he watches me.
In the peace of a shady barn
the only sounds are of straw
disturbed by hooves and
the soothing cooing of a pigeon.
The smell of horse
inextricably linked
to memories of a
pony-mad childhood.
Eyes well with tears.
Is it joy?
Or is it sadness?
Just be with it…
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