The sparkle of life has long since left my tired eyes
Years of neglect have brought me here A steel hand is all that I have felt The bang of an auction gavel sealed my fate. But a golden ray of sunshine comes upon me A soft voice whispers in my drooping ears A gentle hand touches my tired withers Although I flinch, I do not feel the sting of a whip. Calming words and soothing voice ease my fears A halter & lead rope are gently placed on me Another trailer stands before me now, I am urged to go inside I struggle with fear and pull back hard on the rope. Awaiting harsh words and whip lashes, I pull harder But no harsh words hurt my ears I only hear more gentle soothing words With fear and trepidation, I step into the trailer. My entire body quivers in fear A huge mound of fresh hay awaits me At my destination, I am gently led into an enormous stall with deep, soft bedding. A trough of clear, cool water to drink from A feed tub with fresh grain awaits me I peek out of my stall door to a pasture of green grass. “Is this the Rainbow Bridge?” The horse in the stall next to mine nickers, “No, it’s an equine sanctuary.” Author unknown
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When the Lord was creating mustangs, he was into his sixth day of overtime, An angel appeared and said, “You fiddling around on this one”
The Lord asked, “Have you read the description on this horse?” A mustang must be able to trot for miles a day with the herd or carrying a rider that a domestic horse could never hold up to. They have to be able to move at a nanosecond’s notice and not think twice of the danger their lives are in from predators. They have to be able to eat sagebrush and scrub grass and stay in top physical condition at all times, they must be surefooted for the terrain they are to live in, and have wings on their hooves to outrun the cougar. The angel sadly shook her head “Wings on their hooves…. No way” “Its not the wings giving me the problems” Replied the Lord “It’s the three pairs of eyes a mustang must have” “That’s on the standard model?” The angel asked. The Lord nodded. “One pair that sees what is ahead of the herd and where they are going to drink next. Another pair here in the side of their head to see their herd members and keep them safe. And another pair of eyes in back so they can look for predators waiting to jump on them from behind.” “Lord” said the angel, touching his sleeve. “Rest and work on this tomorrow.” “I can’t” said the Lord, “I already have a model that can carry a 200 lb person over 20 miles a day, and will be ready to do it again the next day.” The angel circled the model of the Mustang very slowly, “Can it think?” “You bet,” said the Lord. “It can tell you where danger lies in the trail ahead, and can recall hidden water holes in their sleep. And all the while they have to keep their wits about themselves. This Mustang also has phenomenal sense of caring, so they can be gentled by the person they pick to make their own. And still they rarely get the recognition for what they can do from anyone, other than a fellow mustang lover. Finally, the angel ran her finger across the cheek of the Mustang. “There’s a leak” she pronounced. “Lord, it’s a tear.” “What’s the tear for?” asked the angel. “It’s a tear from the bottled-up emotions for fallen mustangs. A tear for commitment to their chosen person. It’s a tear for all the pain and suffering they have encountered at the hands of mankind. It’s a tear for their forgiveness for the suffering and cruelty of man. And it’s a tear for their commitment to caring for and loving their humans!” Said the Lord. “What a wonderful feature Lord, you’re a genius” said the angel. The Lord looked somber and said “I didn’t put it there. -Author Unknown Kimberly's thoughts on her newly rescued BLM burro
He approaches quietly, cautiously his neck stretched as far as it will go, one step at a time, with a pause in between quick breaths is all I can hear. I sit quietly, not daring to breathe a fly tickles but I can not move, he takes a carrot from my still hand, retreating to chew. I long to reach out to him, to explore his ears and forehead, to find his favorite scratchy spot, to gently clean the tears from his eyes. But for today I will sit dreaming and blessing him silently waiting for the day I can kiss his nose and whisper, "I am glad you were born, you are safe now, rest easy." -courtesy Kimberly Hobson Temecula, CA |
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AuthorHorse lover and advocate, gardening enthusiast and genealogist writing about the passion that caught fire and is still burning today, horses. ArchivesCategories |