Near Where Reeds Sometimes Sway in the Wild Wind, (and of fields barns summer’s scenes, the mise-en-scene of pastoral worlds northern) (for Raquel)

there was a winding way, and it was beyond the towns where fields and farms lived and had lived for decades, for seemingly forever. I asked a soul why some of the horses had little or hardly any places to wait in the rain (though they had some), and others at different places had large and many shelters. she said that not all ranches, just because they are ranches, have the same amount of money. and it was a sunny and summer and calm day,- and the horses there, one brown and one white and one black, would pause so briefly and look at me as I passed by. that was another world, and I wondered what it would be like being borne into such a lifestyle. 

I glanced back leaving, and saw there as I did elsewhere the tall barns on concrete forms with old but curt and organized windows small and sometimes even large. sometimes the structures were faded and needed painting and even the forms, the concrete foundations,- spoke somehow of their age. if there were reeds or some kind of wild growths on the edges of such places I liked them very much. and if the wind announced itself suddenly and then even frequently and brought such reeds over or over and back and forth in the world, like they were all dancing or talking, well I liked that even more since the world was alive then. it was an okay day. they were okay days. there wasn’t a lot to complain about.