Again the early-morning sun was generous with its warmth.
All the sounds dear to a horseman were around me -
the snort of the horses as they cleared their throats,
the gentle swish of their tails, the tinkle of irons as we flung the saddles over their backs -
little sounds of no importance,
but they stay in the unconscious library of memory.
one of the things i always anticipated was the nicker I heard as I pushed back the bolt on the barn door.
They would slowly move in their bedding toward their feed buckets knowing that breakfast was coming, along with a hug around their warm necks...
~Nancy ~ 28/365