Looking Down From the Saddle

The Horse

Secrets stood silent around the homestead. They watched never moving, with furrowed brows, scowling and sniggering at my failures. Everyone could feel them, they affected our behavior, but they remained just out of sight. They poised under the giant Live Oaks where they once butchered hogs. They loitered near the out - house and lounged against the smokehouse. Those close to the house were spoken about often by family members.

Instincts made me look for them and on occasion one moved in my peripheral vision; like a copperhead coiling be - side a cow trail. The secrets lived in purga - torial comfort. The hill top received the prominent Gulf Coast draft that was further cooled by the shade of the big trees.