for the love of horses
Ericka's mare had her filly on Friday. She was born with complications and died at three days old. She was beautiful.
Now I found out my first pony died in December. The girls at my old farm thought someone had told me, but they didn't. She died while I was home. I could have said goodbye if I had known.
"Somewhere... somewhere, in time's own space, there must be some sweet
pastured place. Where creeks sing on, and tall trees grow, some
paradise where horses go. For by the love that guides my pen, I know great horses live again."
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