i'd apologise for bleeding on your shirt; gaza

[Eld]

Just throw it back, for one more night On a starlit and moon-struck night. In Autumn's wake, I seemed to explode onto the scene. Where once there were leaves, freshly fallen and crisply brown, they were a torrent, a whirlwind of yellow, orange and gold. The dying grasses, scorched from the summer's reign made them crisp and splintered beneath my hooves as I fell through the meadow at a charge. All strawberry feathers flying around my sturdy limbs as I go. thick tendrils of red as a sea of bloody foam against the mottled green backdrop. It was nice to stretch, to run and charge, albeit every few strides I would trip over some unseen lump of dirt, stumble a little and continue as elegantly as one could, when one was quite on the large side. A monstrous giant of sorts, throwing her weight around yet still trying to take care for the delicate flowers beneath my feet. Perhaps I was a walking contradiction. I was no longer an exhausted mess; my stay within the beautiful Falls had given my coat a new lustre, my eyes a new fire. Viridian green eyes swallowed the landscape, the sturdy trees, the crisp grasses beneath. Open fields, and I took advantage. My canter swallows the ground, long, purposeful. Not that I have anywhere inclined to go. It is good to feel the autumnal breeze tangle my locks, bless my coat with a nice, comfortable breeze. Not the sticky, blistering sun that beat down upon me and made every little crevasse sticky with sweat. I was still no amazing wildflower; not as pristine or well kept as the primroses and lavender. I was more like the climbing flowers that clung to the trees, hidden in the depths of the Falls. Vast and aplenty, all over the place with no real coordination. Of course they were pretty to look at at a distance, but up close you saw the entanglement and felt that even they didn't know where they were going. so, like the trailing vines with pretty little flowers that bloom in adversary, I crawl over the meadow, long strides eating up the ground, head high and neck arched, squirrelly ears, tufty red lobes perked forward and listen to all the autumnal day's sounds. A few chirps here, some darling lark's song there, and the rush of the wind as it whispered sweet nothings into the trees. For once, for once I was not skulking the trees like some shadow, I was there, I was out in the open. Oof. I trip once more, a large stone in my way. Ah, perhaps, perhaps it is safer me to lurk the shadows. Oh, but then there are the roots of gnarled trees that threaten to capsize my vast vessel, the hidden concealment of rabbit holes that long to take my leg. Perhaps, perhaps I should have flashing lights, like twinkling astrals warning others away. A walking hazard. Ah, but that would be no fun. And a rather lonely existence. A few butterflies whispers past, riding the air current with pretty little wings. How I longed to be so small, so fragile. Able to be cupped closed in gentle hands. But we can dream, can we not? The ground did fold and eat us both But all my love, I did devote. - resident of the falls -