![xx [ Jump High ] xx Avatar](http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q35/chickadee3c/JarofDirt9.gif)
Post by xx [ Jump High ] xx on Jul 1, 2007 18:58:35 GMT -5
Amber waves of grain.
The old phrase that was drilled into her mind took on a whole new meaning in the mind of the beautiful buckskin mare whose orbs were spinning around and taking in the view of the land.
Vast plains of golden grasses, extending far as the eye can see, hid rich green patches within them, the whole grassy affair rising higher than the knees of any average horses, be they steed or femmora, that tore through it, their hoof prints quickly vanishing as they themselves disappeared into the distance. Small, delicately woven streams of crisp looking, clear water ran through the terra. Actually, the grasses hid these as well, and the mare only spotted them because of the angle of her crown and the average length of her pins.
Her optics following them carefully, she found that the streams led to many pools of the same type of water, all around the fields. The streams led off into the distance, and the mare surmised that a small pool or lake must lie just beyond her sight range. Large, wizened trees dotted the plains in random areas, providing enough shade to sustain a large empty space around as a resting place to many smaller creatures.
The rich land felt soft, moist, and comfortable against her tired, weary feet, and the cool breezes felt just right tickling her graceful neck, her locks fluttering this way and that. It was a perfect contrast from the usually humid air so accustomed to summertime in the area. The sky above was a bright blue, puffy white clouds floating around like small, white specks in a great blue dome.
It was perfect.
The Morgan mare took a few more steps into the terra, and then stopped, her delicate dial arched high, and parted her kissers, her melodious tone flowing forth.
This land, she called, musical notes echoing throughout the entire land, shall be mine!
The old phrase that was drilled into her mind took on a whole new meaning in the mind of the beautiful buckskin mare whose orbs were spinning around and taking in the view of the land.
Vast plains of golden grasses, extending far as the eye can see, hid rich green patches within them, the whole grassy affair rising higher than the knees of any average horses, be they steed or femmora, that tore through it, their hoof prints quickly vanishing as they themselves disappeared into the distance. Small, delicately woven streams of crisp looking, clear water ran through the terra. Actually, the grasses hid these as well, and the mare only spotted them because of the angle of her crown and the average length of her pins.
Her optics following them carefully, she found that the streams led to many pools of the same type of water, all around the fields. The streams led off into the distance, and the mare surmised that a small pool or lake must lie just beyond her sight range. Large, wizened trees dotted the plains in random areas, providing enough shade to sustain a large empty space around as a resting place to many smaller creatures.
The rich land felt soft, moist, and comfortable against her tired, weary feet, and the cool breezes felt just right tickling her graceful neck, her locks fluttering this way and that. It was a perfect contrast from the usually humid air so accustomed to summertime in the area. The sky above was a bright blue, puffy white clouds floating around like small, white specks in a great blue dome.
It was perfect.
The Morgan mare took a few more steps into the terra, and then stopped, her delicate dial arched high, and parted her kissers, her melodious tone flowing forth.
This land, she called, musical notes echoing throughout the entire land, shall be mine!
