First walk around the neighborhood

The sky was menacing, mile high plumes of deep graphite edged in fading crimson flashed forked-tongues of liquid white fire as 16 hands of buckskin sinew and muscle joined me for a sunset stroll through the torrid Phoenix August evening. Jester followed lightly on the pale lime lead, ears slanted forward, head raised slightly in anticipation. Booted and bare hooves whispered a soft cadence on the ebony street. The wheet-wheet of a tawny thrasher punctuated the sky's distant rumble. A familiar whiff tickled Jester's flared nostrils, and he trumpeted a melodious greeting. Two whinnies floated back through fluttering mesquite branches. Rain would wait for another day. It was our night for a stroll.