There’s a horse on a field, grazing upon grass as the wind plays its favorite tune, a mountain song, trickling down upon the eastern flat plains of Colorado. Her head hung low in soft serenity, this black mare stares upwards towards a blue purple red sky. She asks not why or what, but is simply aware of the natural. Enjoying her meal, this black mare alone on her favorite field, concealed by a white fence, one more day coming to an end, turns to her stable, ready to return. The sky turns a dark blue. A September shiver rattles her old craggy bones, but the stable shelters her from further pain. Time to rest, and tomorrow all the same.