#colicweather

Long Dark Night of the Soul: Colic

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Andante’s nickering. I’ve pulled the hay out of his run and swept the mats. He has a baritone voice, a make-out music, bad boy nicker. He drops a hip, under his breath, “Hay, b-baby.” No, he can’t have any for a while. I’d rather have a knife to my neck than see a horse with … Read more

Photo & Poem: Burning Snow

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  Nature swats at the pasty insects fussing with watch stems, adjusting mechanical time. Taking one hour, exactly sixty minutes, from one edge of a day and self-importantly tacking it to the other, a legal act lost on horses, who keep time by the feel of the soil, bucking wild at the scent of green … Read more