after the apple

after the apple

is gone, the little black horse

seems to say, don't go

Except for a few patches, the snow is gone, so Cocoa Bean has ventured out into the pasture. When I stop the truck, the little black horse looks up from grazing and walks up to the fence. I give him an apple, cut in half for easier eating, which he grabs and consumes in a few bites. 

          I notice that his forelock is now so matted with burrs that it stands out like some kind of bizarre unicorn's horn. 

          Scratching him behind his ears, I say, "Cocoa Bean, you look like you're having a bad hair day." 

          "These burrs?" he snorts. "Nah, they just keep the hair out of my eyes."

          But when I turn to leave, his liquid chocolate eyes plead, "Don't go!"