The Coming of Spring
Across the pasture the breeze was shaking the silver
aspens, lashing them lightly against a deep wash blue sky. It was a fresh
morning – perhaps rather early for this, but then taste of spring was
in the air. It was the kind of morning that lit the blood,
pulled one away from the mundane and daily chores to other and better
things and this had been…. irresistible. The siren call of it
had been more than he could withstand today. He could barely see the few
tendrils of smoke rising from the chimney before they
dissipated in the wind beyond them, swept away from sight and gone.
Even distracted as he was, from the side of his eye beyond the house, the colts were bouncing around their pasture, playing the complicated tag games they delighted in that appeared to have no rules unless you knew them well. It was one of the daily sights of home, something that always brought joy when you saw it for the fortieth time as much as the first. Watching them gallop at full speed, running circles around their mothers brought an easy smile to his face as he worked, knowing that his partner had been out there earlier, feeding and playing with them, teaching all the time though they ever only thought it was fun…. and that brought him back to thejob at hand. Work to do here. And to enjoy. He changed position carefully and pressed his cheek against hard warmth. He was leaning most of his weight now as he worked, the steady thrumming filling both of them.
Sweat had been trickling gently down his back for a while beneath his shirt while his hands roved steadily, expertly and with care, over familiar territory. The sun was highlighting every bend and curve, throwing shadows into indentations and bathing everything in the golden glow. He smiled when he heard the low groan of response as his fingers searched, and he took a firmer grasp then. Slid his hand deeper, his palm greased, wrapping around, encircling. The steady rhythm was trembling through him, increasing at his coaxing. His hands worked and he leaned harder, pressed further to reach, the sun hot on his head, on his back, the steady purring of response getting louder. Steadier. Filling his ears as well as his hands, the richness of familiar scent filling his nose as they got closer….
Riley crossed the yard and stood for a moment, watching them. And then he grinned, leaning against the barn wall and folding his arms.
“That looks fun. Want any help?”
“Yes. Get your shirt off.”
Riley's snort of laughter was followed by him promptly stripping his shirt over his head and coming to join them.
“Dale.”
Dale glanced up. Flynn, leaning on the porch rail, jerked his head at the kitchen.
“You two. Get dressed, get your hands out of that tractor’s guts, turn the engine off and come wash. We’ll fix it after breakfast.”
Even distracted as he was, from the side of his eye beyond the house, the colts were bouncing around their pasture, playing the complicated tag games they delighted in that appeared to have no rules unless you knew them well. It was one of the daily sights of home, something that always brought joy when you saw it for the fortieth time as much as the first. Watching them gallop at full speed, running circles around their mothers brought an easy smile to his face as he worked, knowing that his partner had been out there earlier, feeding and playing with them, teaching all the time though they ever only thought it was fun…. and that brought him back to thejob at hand. Work to do here. And to enjoy. He changed position carefully and pressed his cheek against hard warmth. He was leaning most of his weight now as he worked, the steady thrumming filling both of them.
Sweat had been trickling gently down his back for a while beneath his shirt while his hands roved steadily, expertly and with care, over familiar territory. The sun was highlighting every bend and curve, throwing shadows into indentations and bathing everything in the golden glow. He smiled when he heard the low groan of response as his fingers searched, and he took a firmer grasp then. Slid his hand deeper, his palm greased, wrapping around, encircling. The steady rhythm was trembling through him, increasing at his coaxing. His hands worked and he leaned harder, pressed further to reach, the sun hot on his head, on his back, the steady purring of response getting louder. Steadier. Filling his ears as well as his hands, the richness of familiar scent filling his nose as they got closer….
Riley crossed the yard and stood for a moment, watching them. And then he grinned, leaning against the barn wall and folding his arms.
“That looks fun. Want any help?”
“Yes. Get your shirt off.”
Riley's snort of laughter was followed by him promptly stripping his shirt over his head and coming to join them.
“Dale.”
Dale glanced up. Flynn, leaning on the porch rail, jerked his head at the kitchen.
“You two. Get dressed, get your hands out of that tractor’s guts, turn the engine off and come wash. We’ll fix it after breakfast.”
Originally Posted April 1
Copyright Rolf and Ranger 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment