… with an invisible magpie feather tonight. The feather wasn’t invisible; the magpie was.
That makes three feathers in three weeks. Owl. Raven. Magpie. Looking for interpretations, it seems wise/smart/creative expression.
The owl feather’s problematic. Other than the generic ‘wise’, it mostly has dark interpretations. Since I found it first, it may mean I’m going to drop dead and be dark, brooding, smart and creative in the underworld.
Then again, they may just be feathers. I think I’ll slide them in my hatband, and see who freaks out.
“he’s a chestnut roan. when cold weather’s comin’, he turns white.”
“i didn’t know they did that. i’d’ve said he was grey.”
“sure as shootin’, it’s gonna be an early fall.”
“sure feels like it today.” checking out the horse. “he looks damned muscular.”
“yep. been a good ‘un. navicular is probly gonna take him down this fall, though.”
“some fools ran him too hard, and his feet suffered. he won’ make another winter.”
“it’s ok. he’s had a good life with me. we’ll put him down at first frost.”
owner whacks the horse’s butt in a rough gesture of admiration, waves a half-hearted goodbye, and walks off.
pulling a fresh carrot from my pocket, i hold it out in my palm. the horse suddenly turns from my hand to look into the far distance, standing stock-still, as if waiting for something. we stand like this for uncounted minutes - i offering, he quivering with anticipation.
leaving the tidbit balanced on a barrel, i walk towards the truck.
I give the door handle a yank, and look back. the roan shakes his head, whinnies and vanishes in a blinding cloud of corral-dust.
empty corral. the carrot, the carrot is gone.
like hell it’s the weather. he knows. i think it’s the waiting and wondering.