Friday, January 04, 2008

A Piebald Horse

Ribbons red, blue and gold sewn and wove through the mane of Anglac's courtiers steed. Here all slender and grace mulled in winter morning still fragile. Aloysius upon a piebald horse matted and awash with mud followed. These times little they spoke, each reading and read the other as if brothers. On pestilent vales this went hours into hours til eastward hills were well in sight. Southward on climbs that oversaw a smokey city watching with some scorn. Amid orchards the manors held by Aloysius family waited them and many more.

Grey and cold wanders in and unsure night somehow fleeting and uncommitted to the land. But with hours lamps are lite and strung in leaf barren trees. A wind would wash up driving branches like a fist shaking in the air. And the two road mindless of gales rattling windows on well wooded streets past in wordless hours. Anglac's hair wild rushed with the gusts and lashed, where it was always in place. Aloyisius's a mild mess as always smiled headlong into the weather. Now it would not be long.

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