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The day meandered like slow  syrup-ed liqueur.  Early
I headed out to pasture saddled and packed.  The suns
warning did not alter plans.  Jack headed  north
 guiding me true, as loyalty always does, he lead me
in the direction of the herd as they began their
trek after waking from the night.   We checked
the spring’s run then met the pasture shed half way in it gracious
lending of feed.   Resting, the old border collie took my side
on the step; he knew he had earned that drink from my tin cup.  
(I have come to realize that trust is something a good dog
teaches you after years of wandering,  after years
of thinking you’d find it elsewhere.) 
The sun took a turn to the west and we  followed,
counting calves,checking fences ; I soon lost count
of the hours or notice of  the afternoon’s heat
dampening the brim of my hat and saddle with sweat and salt.
The sky seemed to shift its light finding Jack and I  finally starting  
our weave back towards the south .  We only faced its latter stretch 
before coming full circle.  I can now make out the rough outline
of the barn ahead as the sun has begun to give up its persistence, 
welcoming the twilight.    All now yield, man, horse and dog
willing to the days end and the sun begins it setting to a shading of 
lavender and golden bourdon; a the shade of mellow
I have come to savor.
 
 
bkmackenzie 2010
copyrighted
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