Morning Star Horse
My husband's Arabian mare, Morningstar, is the first to greet me in the pasture. She plants her teacup muzzle into the palm of my hand to confirm that I don't have anything delicious hidden there.
It's an inky black morning. I swear I could pluck Orion's belt from where it hangs in the southern sky above the mesa and clasp it around my waist. Our ranch sits at over 7,000 feet, and I sometimes wonder if northern New Mexico is one of the few places where you can still see the stars in the sky. I'm quickly grateful for the thousands of lights piercing the darkness above.
Morningstar gives me a nudge, and I think it would probably be more fitting to fashion a bridle for her out of Orion's three stars. The little horse's wide eyes glisten even in the moonless dawn.
I look up at our ranch house with its amber lit windows, and think of my children sleeping there. When they each were too small to ride a horse on their own in the high country, Morningstar carried them behind my husband way up into the Pecos wilderness, where you could very nearly reach out and touch a cloud with your hand. And each time the horse carried them back down the mountain safely home.
A thread of smoke winds its way up above the propanel roof. The scent of piñon travels down to the pasture below, a thin perfume in the frigid air.
The arabian horse lifts her nose. She smells it too.
I give her a rub on the neck, and turn back towards the barn ...
Flickr Photo Sources: Photo 1 by Jeanner; Photo 2 by Jeanner
