Graze

Our class rides cautiously along an old railway track. The light tonight is thin and fresh and fragile. We breathe it in and above, mountain fir trees slowly exhale. Whatever they saw in the winter. Whatever they heard. Whatever weighed them down until today.

Under us, nervous hearts beat slower. Horse after horse stretches down to graze.

We dash blindly along in space and sit here at the same time, while three horses gratefully graze.

It’s spring.

Mainokset