Horse: What a night it is. It’s not so hot and not so
cold. The grass seems blue in the moon. The clouds are few
and the stars are plenty. The air is fresh, good for a trot,
you think? My lungs do enjoy this moist cool atmosphere.
What do you think of this fine summer night, stranger? Mind
if I know your name? My name is Hickory. A horse from the
north from a ranch still mud from yester-rain. This road is
good for a nice brisk walk and the road is good for my
hooves. How about you, Mr. Bear? How about you? Have you
found any good berries? There is a garden past the stream
full of carrots and tomatoes. Move swiftly and they shall be
yours.
Bear: My goodness Mr. Hickory, you have much to say about
this night. Beautiful, you are right. If I could count the
stars, I wonder what the number would be. My name is Charlie
and I am from the north as well. up higher than where you
are from. Past the hills and the farmlands I come from the
tree covered mountains where there are evergreens for miles.
I find it rather warm down here. I in fact followed that
there stream and the vegetables were quite lovely, but
chased by barking dogs. Did you see? I wandered down to see
the land which people have carved. Tall cornstalks and
flowers planted, the mountains could never be so colorful. 
Horse: Well, Charlie, I saw no dog. But you are right about
the color. Flowers are everywhere and farms all over. The
mountains, however, look wonderful from my ranch. So high
and green and the way they hide in the clouds or peak just
above them. I’d love to see those mountains someday. Would
you take me, dear friend?
	The clouds rolled in quickly. Thunder echoed in the
distance, coming closer and closer. Lightening moved in
brighter and brighter. Drips and drops, pitters than
patters, until buckets of water began pouring from the sky.
The wind picked up, blowing Hickory’s main round and round
his face.
Horse: My goodness, that was fast my dear friend. Maybe some
other day I’ll meet you in the mountains. I must head back
before my master worries. Join me, Charlie? Would you
please? No need for you to go to the mountains in this
storm. 
Bear: Hickory, that is quite kind of you, but this is
nothing for me. The rain feels good on my sweating back and
the wind cools me to my feet. I’ll walk you to my ranch on
my way back, but I’m sure you’d prefer to gallop
instead, much faster than I could travel. Farewell Hickory
on this fine night, I’ll see you sometime again.
	The horse bowed his head and turned and galloped up the
hill to his ranch. The bear walked slowly toward the
mountains as the rain poured down his back.
2004