“A horse out in the cold, in snow looking for a friend and warmth”

Beneath a sky of slate and pearl,  
Where drifting snowflakes softly swirl,  
A single horse with midnight mane  
Presses onward through the plain.  

His breath, a mist of gentle white,  
Shapes halos in the fading light—  
And every step is echoed deep  
In silent fields that dream and sleep.  

His coat is flecked with icy lace,  
His long, dark lashes brush his face.  
He whinnies low—a lonely sound—  
Hope held within each earthen pound.  

He noses drifts along the trail,  
Listens to wind’s forgotten tale,  
Searching for a gentle neigh,  
A warm shape in the silver-gray.  

The barn lies far, its lantern low,  
Windows lit with dusky glow.  
Inside, the sound of hay and hymn,  
Of gentle voices welcoming.  

He lifts his head, his nostrils flare—  
A scent of clover in the air.  
And there! Another waits for him,  
A friend to share the cold and dim.  

Together now, their bodies pressed  
Against the winter’s frosty test,  
They watch the swirling snow descend—  
Two hearts grown warm, in storm, as friends.

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