The passing hours of this hot-dry
day spook and buck and bolt, swirling
together and scattering apart in a
a howling dust devil of sharp nickers,
skittering hooves, and manure. Alwaysmanure. I’m only human. I march from
water tank leaks to gate repair, trying
to mitigate the day’s erosion and
prepare for the next thing that will be
a thing I’ve never fixed before. Butunder the chaos and distraction and
resistance to the very wind, gravity
is a call to order; a call from the good
earth to my body, soil and water to
muscle and blood. Sister, come sit.
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
Another beautiful bit of prose. Thank you Anna!
Sent from my iPhone
>
Thanks, Peggy. Edgar says hay. I mean, hey.
lovely poem and photo!!
Donkey Zen. Thanks Kate.
Not being verbose, I really like this poem.
Thanks, Chaz. I edited 800 words out.
Jeez Louise…I get this…
I dare say, well said, Anna!
Thanks, Lynell.
Beautifully said! Thank you…
Longear inspiration. Thanks, Jan.
nicely put and brilliant photo, thanks
Thanks, Kate.