Warming my Hands

At night, the temperatures are now dipping into the 50s and 40s. The air chills me as I close the chickens in for the night and check on the sheep. My last stop on this nightly routine is the horse stalls. The Haflingers, finished with their hay, are ready to come out of the horse stalls. Before letting them out, I slide my hand under their manes, and pause, taking in the warm air pocket between their mane and fur, listening to the sounds of the night, looking at the stars. Neither mare seems bothered by this intrusion. Lily turns her head and sniffs, bringing a puff of warmth across my face.