Spring Whispers

The sun took tentative steps from behind February clouds this morning.  A winter’s worth of mud conceded, retreated a fraction of an inch, not quite ready to admit the twitchings of little grass roots.  Just today, horses play and tease, nibbling the hem of my jacket, back to life after months of bracing against cold.

Step into the barn.  Quiet ~ then whooosh of tiny bird wings.

A flurry of curry combs, brushes, hoof picks and hay, then roll in the mud, shake, nicker and trot under a daring baby blue sky.

It’s coming, my lovelies.  The breeze smells like a secret, bursting to be told.  Until then, drink deeply, the sun on your face.

Feb Sun B&W

photos copyright Zen Doe

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14 Comments on “Spring Whispers

  1. Agree with johnnycrabcakes, this is hardly fluff! It’s simply beautiful. . . and the peaceful, contemplative horse is magical (the word that always springs to my mind when I read your writing).

  2. “A bit of light-hearted fluff for a February day.” ?!?!?!?
    Are you kidding me? You do yourself a great disservice. This piece IS poetry. Pure, honest, beautiful. Such wonderful play with assonance and consonance.
    The reader is transported. I am enamored of your words, your images. There is real power here. Neve mind where the line-breaks are or whether you think the subject “deep”.

    “There is nothing so lowly or mundane that it is unworthy of being embraced by mindful attention.”

    I could go on getting under the hood of this true poem of yours and singing your praises as a poet I admire, but I’ll stop for now as long as you promise not to down-play the depth of your vision….
    Truly love this–
    Peace

  3. I’m such a fan of yours. One day, I hope to write about life with horses again. Some day, once I’ve moved on from grad school and can breathe in the sweet air when the hay comes in.

    • You will!! I appreciate every moment of it because, if for no other reason, there were no horses in my life for more than thirty-five years. You’ll be smelling hay long before that, I’m sure. Oh, and about that hay – Got any BenGay? We stacked 50 bales yesterday!

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