Black In the Snow
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It was a picture - perfect cold winter day,
bathed in white and still snowflakes swirled;
like gauzy curtains crystalline and sparkling,
I put on my boots, jacket, scarf and gloves.
And stepped out into a winter wonderland,
the barn was a soft golden haze of smells;
and my horse, Black, snorted hello from his stall,
I kissed his muzzle, his neck and soft mane.
Murmuring words of love- oh he would love this,
I could see us galloping across the powdery snow;
putting on the saddle his withers quivered excitement,
he nudged me with his head and I laughed at him.
I was walking him out of the barn when I noticed,
he was limping on his left back leg somewhat;
I put my hand on him, sliding it down his body,
and legs, he shifted when I reached his knees.
I was worried and continued my slow inspection,
touching gently his lower leg and his ankle,
Black, tossed his head when I lifted up his hoof,
oh something is there- no riding for Black!
I go backside to call the vet . . . .
______________________
October 15, 2016
Narrative
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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