belly deep in snow

belly deep in snow,

wearing a crown of burrs, yet 

happy horse with new friends

Through the coldest, snowiest winter in eighteen years, I continue to keep my daily vigil for the little black horse as I pass the pasture on the edge of town. Alone since last summer, he rarely ventures far from the red barn or the shelter of trees along one fence line. Even in a blizzard I would see him, black back coated white, nuzzling for grass beneath the snow.
          He was separated from his last companions as the result of a divorce. Not for the first time, he found himself alone. One year, he kept company with a big black bull. The next year, his buddies were two brown calves. And finally, three actual horses joined him in the little pasture and he became quite attached to the gentle, big-footed Clydesdale. When they vanished, I grieved for him once more and prayed that he be gifted with at least one pasture mate.
          A few days ago, in the midst of another snowstorm, I suddenly see not one, not two, not three, but four new four-leggeds in the pasture with the little black horse, and I start shouting for joy. This time, his new friends are two chestnut horses, a brown and white piebald pony and a little gray donkey.
          Cocoa Bean stands belly deep in snowdrifts, looking legless, yet his short legs manage to plow a wide furrow as he follows the others. Despite his nose powdered with powdery snow and his mane tangled with burrs, he seems utterly happy to have company, and I am ecstatically delighted that my prayer has been answered.