So he took his sweet time unbridling the horse, brushing out her coat, then watering and feeding both mares. All the while, the sun crept from the barn—its departure inaudible, profound.
He leaned on the stall door and just watched, just listened—the nosing of the hay and the grinding of the grain. And he let the beautiful horse smells enter him, venture like smoke, like good medicine, up his nostrils and into his psyche.
How is it that a beast can emit scents as evocative as a woman on a Sunday walk? Then he smiled as all things quietly made sense. These two are mares, after all.
