The Hunt

I am trying to be silent in the deep fog

The chill on this early morning bites intensely

It’s coming out of the darkest part of night now

Pulling my focus away from my cold body to the movement ahead

I see the steam of his breath before I see him

It rises, disperses into the frigid air

There is a slight crackle as the hoof I barely see taps at the earth

He paws twice at the fallen leaves

The sound travels far into the dark

I sheath my arrow, lay down my bow and crouch low

He exhales a deep, hot breath

As I slowly move toward him I see his body

He moves gracefully, lifting his head up, looks at me

I flatten my hand against the bark of the tree beside him

My chest heaving great, slow breaths

He is so beautiful

Never on a hunt had I seen a horse in these forests

As ran my hand along his smooth nose, over his cheek and to his neck I know he belonged to someone

He lowers his neck

No longer am I aware of the bitter cold

No longer am I concerned with this hunt

It’s only us

He gently touches his cheek to my shoulder

The steam of his breath warms my hands

The slightest hint of dawn saturates these woods

A warm so slight, so gentle

As I look out at the brightening horizon, I feel him lower his head more against me

He rests his cheek on my side

Beside him I stand in such an unknown, peaceful captivation

Amidst the need, the determination, the cold, I found you

In this wild, you were here

In this cold, you have given me more than I came for

It is early, yet, here you are