Across the long diagonal to the west corner of the dry lot, he’s on the far side of the herd, barely moving as he shifts weight from one hoof to the other, his neck stretched long, muzzle to the sandy ground. He pretends to eat what’s not there, so he can watch me softly. He … Read more
Then, from now.
In the dark…
Journaling as a training aid?
As soon as the sun is a quarter high…
Lines not crossed.