The pasture is quiet, not a sound, just long stretches of swampy grasses, clumps of trees in the distance, rolling hills beyond a pasture gate. The herd is no where to be seen. On overcast days it is eery. On days filled with coastal sunshine, there is promise.
One horse lingers. Alone. Day after day. Alone. The herd has gone to the hills, or a ravine, or beyond behind a grove of trees. Yet she stays nearby but not visible from the barn. My wonderings tell me it is her lameness though I’ve seen otherwise. When I call, she comes to greet me. My thoughts tell me it is because she wants food. And of course she does. But these reasons are not why she lingers near. They are not why she comes when she is called. There is a cosmic reason. I can feel it. Sense it. There is a bigger plan still hidden from me.