I am astride its back, my hands on the reigns. The dust churning up has covered my legs, turning my white socks brown. Before us the ground is a layer of flaking chips of metal, behind us the green of the lawn shows. We make quick work of the yard.
I put the Hsquvenermeanerfjoriforum back it his stall and I survey my work. The last of the days sun brushes a hand on the back deck and I am compelled to get the new sake set and sit on the deck and drink until I am shrouded in night.
It was a good day.