The Cycle of a DayDrifting shadows from the barnyard fall as the suns light descends into dusk. As the light passes through crevices in the creaking planks, melancholic rays of the fleeting sun squeeze through the gaps within the enclosure.
They began to form shapes, stretching into cognitive figures.
From these aged eyes, I saw my mother in the back of my mind, dancing upon the streaming threads of light with her mane flitting in the entrancing dimness. Follow me, the dance seemed to convey as she disappeared in the darkness like so many years ago.
It was still a vivid memory in the past thirty years since I had seen her, an aged, compassionate dun jenny. My mother, Adelaide, and I had not been born into the farm and were instead sold into Manor Farm where we both toiled. Yet, despite the burden laid upon my maturing mother, she had thought of it her duty to help the surrounding animals around her at the cost of her own health.
Years passed and it the constant work steadily took its toll, eventua