Saturday morning

The farm's sand arena, raked into straight lines and empty, the rail's long morning shadows across it.

A man's footprints come in through the arena's gate beside a horse's hoofprints, on its left. A few metres in, they stop; his last two prints turn toward the horse, and there his footprints end. The hoofprints go on alone.

Seen from high above the arena, the hoofprints walk on along the rail, close together, and draw one big circle in the raked sand.

The prints lengthen into pairs: a circle, then a figure of eight across the arena.

Low beside the rail, the prints come faster and farther apart, a canter, then a gallop down the long side, each print throwing up sand; the rail's posts stream past.

The prints shorten, trot, walk, and stop: four prints side by side.

A man's footprints step down beside the hoofprints and walk with them to the rail, where the hoofprints stop. His footprints go on alone, out through the arena's gate.

From inside the yard, his footprints cross it and go out through the open apricot gate to the street. The two leaves swing shut.

Same time, tomorrow.