June evening in the horses’ field. A couple, no, a trinity of magpies. For joy. For a girl. A galaxy of buttercups, an anarchy of docks, an angry horde of nettles. One deer who grazes peacefully within our fences. The horses don’t even look up as he hurdles the fence. Tiny bunnies oblivious to the speck of buzzard above us. The rain is coming. It will be light for hours yet.
The trees shelter the horses, and no one else is here. Reduce the world to this, if only for an hour each day.