Grieving Horses The last thing I expected turning into the gravel drive were four red manes bowing over a split rail fence. They eluded me these months I’d been his nurse. Drawn to their sad songs rolling across the yard like leaves, I lingered in soft eyes, gazes never wavering from his window. Inside, their hymns filtered through the open, sheered casement above his bed. His wife turned to me, “Been at it since way before sunrise. Never came to...
