Kristine E. Brickey

Fullmoon light seeps through 4 a.m. darkness, Coating grass and field outside like an eerie wintry frost.           I am mesmerized as  strands of mist creep forward, as film noir flower beds disappear, wrapped beneath ghostly blankets.  Palms pressed flat against my window,  what lies hidden in fog meets glassy fingertips.                                     Protected, though I feel the powerful presence. I wait, Wondering as I step backwards;  Wary, even as I am drawn to the mystery. Hypnotized, I watch as it  ebbs away.  The entity dissipates, returning  to its birthplace.

     You know that feeling when something goes awry and you KNEW moments before what you should do, but you didn't? I do, too. Too many times.       It's why I suffered an injury my first day of horse camp in Hungerford on August 13th. I KNEW shortly into the ride I needed to adjust tack, but I brushed my inner warning aside. At the top of a hill I thought, "Get down. Fix the bridle," but there was another group, so I told myself I'd take care of it at the next open area. Bad. Choice. It resulted in the early ending of what was supposed to be a week of riding with two amazing friends and led to weeks of recuperating until I was able to get back in the saddle.      On April 25th, 2021 I brought home my little red Mustang, Cinderella. She's 11, but wasn't gentled or even really handled by people until last fall when Naomi Rutter chose her for Reality's Chance Rescue & Sanctuary Mustang Challenge. Cinder and Naomi won, and Cinder went north...way nort