| Subject: ~ Black form on a distant ridge ~ |
Author:
Star Fyre
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Date Posted: 09:56:28 02/14/03 Fri
*He stands very still as the cold wind moans around him, making his wavy, tangled mane flow over his dark, flickering eyes. His tail flows between his hocks and his forelock is lifted by the wind. He sighs slightly. So much time had gone by. Expresso had come and gone, come and gone. Now he was a grandsire. He should be happy. He should be down there in the warm meadow, congratulating his son and meeting his grandfoal.* But it seems I'm in a rut, *he thinks.* It feels like I have grown weary of the passage of time. I hope it's just a faze. But Memory Lane can be a painful address sometimes . . . *He sighs again and then begins walking slowly down the ridge, the wind stinging tears from his soft mahogany eyes that had seen so much. His long, flowing strides take him quickly over the bumpy, short-cropped grass. Without breaking his stride he lowers his head. His dark nose sweeps over the grass tips. He grabs a small mouthful and chews it. He halts on a grassy knoll over-looking the territory. It appeared that Sunny's daughter, Rainy, had a new mate. He closes his eyes as a sudden, painful, aching longing of nostalgia sweeps over his heart. He remembers the good old days, when Rainy, Windy, Clover and the others were just fillies and colts, when they lived at Bluegrass Hill. Those were the days of Captain, of a herd filled with active members.* Why does change have to be so painful? *he thinks, and slowly opens his eyes to look up at the wide, open, shifting, changing sky. Ever changing.*
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