Alone. On the back of a horse. The animal walks below me and I sway with its movement, watching the earth pass between its ears, listening to the birds in the distant trees and closer, the shuffle and clump of the beast’s feet shushing through the grass that strains toward the revival of the sun.
I’m riding the fence, checking for breakage. For ways the livestock might escape when they’re set out to pasture. It’s been a long winter – spring is in the air with the scent of mud and the sweat of my horse… the pungent tang of my leather saddle.
My face and fingertips are cold, everything else about me is warm. I’m alive.