A Moment of Equine Equanimity

Mare and foal

A mare and her foal graze in my neighbor’s pasture.

I’ve always loved my neighbors’ horses; no matter how scorching the heat or brutal the storm, they remain stolidly grazing, heads down and serenely unperturbed. I take comfort in their tranquility.

The arrival of new foals also reminds me of beauty’s ephemeral permanence. The eagle soars away, the startled deer bounds across the field, and the lilies fade, but the horses remain. Individuals may disappear, but lovely little beings come to replace them.

The perpetually changing constancy of my landscape reminds me of lines from Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”:

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
I feel lucky indeed.
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One comment

  1. Nice pairing of horse, text, and quotation. I like coming here for tranquility.

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