Published in https://www.poetschoice.in/books.php Living in the Mountains
Covered in soft native grass framed with ponderosa pine.
The old mare made a bed in the grass.
I looked for her and found the hill.
She would go there to sleep, to dream,
to die.
On blue sky days we shared a view of the Pryor Mountains.
We kept each other company,
in quiet.
The breeze bent the tall grass.
In private, one day the grass was her final place to rest.
She left to me the hill in the back of the canyon.
A home.
Nature turned to nurture.
Pine trees are now logs with a roof.
A house built to shelter me and dogs where the horse once bed in the grass,
is bed enough for all of us.
Quiet. Peaceful.
A hill in the back of the canyon framed with the memory of shared company.
Confessions, goodbyes.
A home to dream, to sleep, to live.
So sorry to hear about the death of your horse. Animals do know to choose their final resting place. They are so dear to us.