Margarita, image © Sarah Myers, used by permission

I had a suspicion this might be a mistake.

I came back to put her into the pen for the night. But meantime Bonita had finished eating and disappeared. I peered into the darkness; her pale buckskin coat had vanished somewhere into it, and I could only see the dark night, accented with tufts of even darker brush. There was no doubt she was away out in that field, and she expected me to hike up and down it till I discovered her munching away. She is quite gentle, and I knew she would come along back with me without difficulty. But first I must make the tiring tramp through invisible daisies with very tangibly tangled stems. This at the end of a long, stressful day.

I slipped the gate of the pen open and let Margarita out into the dark pasture.

Margarita stepped out promptly enough but then stayed by the fence because she had discovered the spot where some of Bonita’s feed had been scattered beneath the feed bucket. First things first.

Margarita had taken her task seriously.

I fumbled into the treat bag and doled out the cookies. Then I rattled some regular feed into a can and set off back to the pen, this time with my two little mares eagerly following.

Even in the dark I could see her bright, deep eyes asking me something.

Margarita had quit eating her hay and was looking at me. She walked over to me and stuck her dainty muzzle through the fence. Even in the dark I could see her bright, deep eyes asking me something.

“And you did a wonderful job, Rita,”

Lyric poet. Blogger. Grower. Maker. I love living things.💗POM-poet💗

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