I see him every Wednesday when I go to my writers group. He is pastured a field of lavender away from where I stand, so he is not close to me. I do not speak to him. But he intrigues me.
He is not magnificent with his Roman nose and swayed back. But he does have a flowing whip of a tail and a graceful arch to his neck.
I believe he is sad, a herd animal all on his own. He stands at the fence, facing across the fields, staring at the dairy cows acres away. He whinnies to them, but they ignore him because they have milk to make.
Some god of lonely horses took pity on him a few days ago, and I noticed a neat little bay had been released in the pasture with him. They galloped from fence to fence, lashing at each other with hooves and teeth. I am no horse whisperer, but it appeared the white horse was the aggressor nation. Before long he was alone again, looking over the fence with sorrow, or so it seemed to me.
This week, the horse god devised another plan. A goat was in the pasture. It was eating. And the white horse was calmly grazing as well, close to the little animal’s side.
If I were a god, I’d find some moral here. Maybe that opposites attract, or loners like to be alone, or that everyone who looks like a friend might not be. As it is, I just feel better because the white horse seems content with his goat.
As for now, this ending is a happy one.