Photo & Poem: Goodnight


Leaning on the gate. Checking
water tanks at dusk, one last
glance at the herd before heading
in. Feeling his warmth near, even

from the far side of the pen, his
muzzle deep in hay. Awestruck, my
involuntary response to his beauty.
Under my breath, I barely murmur

the tall gray’s name aloud but the
sound fills the sky, snuffing the
sunset to a smoldering ember. And
just as infinity comes to rest in this

suspended moment, the gelding
lifts his head to consider me,
needing no enticement bigger than
a whispered word he knows is his.

Anna Blake at Infinity Farm

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Anna Blake

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