Digging the Grave
His body was softly placed on the patterned wool blanket laying over the old wooden wagon. His soft furred limbs were frozen in death...his body rippled with strong spent muscles...his dusty hooves silent in his finale...his back wide and free. His head personified a sacred totem carving lying there in a dream world beyond sleep. His mind had drifted softly into a dream state as he lay down under a weeping willow tree by the peaceful creek bed. His brown doe eyes were shrouded in butterfly winged eyelids...his lashes resting wantonly there in peace and harmonic death arising to the stone pillared sanctuary of horse heaven. The grave was dug roughly in the dusty ground...gemmed pyramid stones were scattered there and the powdered ochre dirt scattered over his body like solemn netting. Glistening raven lace trimmed mother of pearl curtains draped over the earth’s sombre crisp toffee coating that night. And blood red bougainvillea tied with fuchsia velvet ribboned bows graced the metal gates of heaven like morbid creeping vines ebbed in poison. Pegasus the winged stallion of folklore pranced across the sky on a bed of gothic shining silver shooting stars.