The Ribbon Over the Fence — At the first gold stripe of morning, a pony named Juniper nudged a faded yellow ribbon from its peg. Read the full story →
At the first gold stripe of morning, a pony named Juniper nudged a faded yellow ribbon from its peg. She wanted the blackbird choir beyond the rail field to sing for it, just once, because the ribbon had been tied around her neck on the day she first stood up. It smelled faintly of hay dust and rain. The fence rails were cool with dew, and Juniper’s knees trembled before the jump.
She stepped out from the shed’s soft straw and trotted downhill. Thistles combed her fetlocks, and one bramble snagged the ribbon until a thread came loose. Juniper almost turned back. Then a blackbird whistled three bright notes from the row of little trees. “I brought my best thing,” Juniper called.
Over the fence she sailed, mane snapping like a flag. The birds did not take the ribbon. They tucked its loose thread into a nest and filled the morning with such clear, bubbling music that Juniper’s chest felt too small to hold it. She galloped home and hummed the tune for the goats, the sleepy barn cat, and the sparrows in the rafters. If you follow the lifted hooves, you can almost hear that first gold stripe of morning sing.
