When I came out this morning, Simon was in the rear pasture, where he first came to the farm, nearĀ death, and lay for hours in the shade of the feeder. I saw him and my heart jumped a bit at the memory, and the thought that he seemed to have returned there for a reason. He saw me and gave me a joyous bray.
17
September
Saturday Sunrise. Simon. Memory
by Jon Katz