By Ben Reid
The stars, pale and creamy, spread in a fading arc as the sky began to lighten. Below, the frost still lingered and my steps crunched through the brittle grass of the meadow. In the half-light I saw her tense. Turning, she watched my approach but moved no further and in her eyes I saw the familiar mix of peace and yearning, a churn of innocence and primal need. I breathed in her scent, reached trembling hands towards the full, pink curves. Our warmth combined, and as the milk began to flow the dawn echoed with the sounds of her happy mooing.
Sweet and nourishing, Ben, is your portrayal of this ever-demanding yet always rewarding life pattern. Jerry
A cleverly crafted story. I thoroughly enjoyed it!
Try and picture the farmer who penned these lines. Good work, Ben.
This man can really write! I particularly appreciated the early predictors – creamy, churn, etc. – and to get all this in 101 words is amazing.
Beautiful imagery. And almost makes me yearn for the crisp winter weather to stay, for mornings like this.
Loved this! Thought it was going to be a horse because (doh!) hadn’t properly read the title. Very atmospheric!