Sunset came. The sky was turning its rusty hue, with crinkles of red and yellow streaking that auburn hair, and peaking against the white.
She stood, gazing so solemn, neck bent round her right side, then hearing my footsteps in the fragile grass, brought her head back to look at me. Her tail had not flipped its constant self, her legs were posed like bricks, no movement.
As quietly as she had turned to glance upon me, she turned back again, and captured the wondrous feeling of holding the sun, of even for a few marvelous seconds between her body and mine, as it slowley poured down to its setting.
She had to see the reflection. The cost of daytime turning to nite, the double look of watching it collect in her mind, and spill its softness across the pasture and pond. Soliloquy that goes unsaid.
Ralph Peck
Photo by Sherri Stamps Davidson
Dewey, Oklahoma
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