FROM THE DUSTY MESA
HER LOOMING SHADOW GROWS
HIDDEN IN THE BRANCHES OF THE POISON CREOSOTE
With glee, the dark colored child received the mare’s offer of what she deemed was a rock solid alibi. Her little tush of a tail brushed over the top of her hindquarters, and had she been a puppy rather than a filly, would have wagged to and fro quite happily. Her mother would surely understand that she had to help all her friends! Now, explaining how she actually came to have a new friend… that was a task for later.
However, not long after, she felt the sudden tensing of the mare against her own skin. Perplexed, she froze as well, her own small muscles mimicking the tenseness of the mare. For a moment, she wondered if she had done anything wrong. She had no clue what, but what else could explain the mare’s response?
She was just about to pull herself back when the mare touched her cheek tenderly. Giving a small snort, she quickly relegated her confusion to her own imagination and leaned into the mare’s soft touch, rather enjoying the feeling.
But then the older mare began to speak and it is with partial shock and partial sadness that the filly listens. The concept of being deserted by a mother horrified the child, and for a moment she was plagued with guilt at deserting her own mother (if only for a short while).
Luckily, the sorrow in her eyes was short-lived, replaced quickly by a glint of happy realization. “You can share my mama with me!” the young girl blissfully exclaimed, overjoyed at her own wisdom. “I’ve always wanted a big sister!” By now, her grin was wide, plastered from cheek to cheek, as she thought about all the joys of having a constant sibling.
She glanced about, and for a brief moment, hoped that her steel gray mother would be rounding a bend to welcome her sister into their home. Seeing no such figure, she instead took the opportunity to enlighten her new family member into the idiosyncrasies of their mother. “Mama’s real strange though… She’ll try to make you eat grass…” the filly whispered surreptitiously, her eyes darting about constantly to make sure their mother was not within earshot.
Their secret-sharing session was short-lived, however, as the mare (wisely) began a more useful dialog. Names! “Rhae,”, the filly repeated, more to herself than to the grullo mare. She liked the elegance of the word, and the gentle way it rolled off her tongue. And, as she noted with slight envy, far easier to say than her own. “Mama calls me Louisiane…” she then began, a mischievous glint in her dark pupils. “…when I’m in trouble, that is.” She thought for a moment and decided against explaining how often that actually was. “Otherwise, she’ll call me Annie,”
AND RISE WITH ME FOREVER ACROSS THE SILENT SAND
AND THE STARS WILL BE YOUR EYES
AND THE WIND WILL BE MY HANDS