The Goat’s Eyes I go to the stone wall to call the goats not from my need nor from theirs, to be with them. A herd gathers under the bent apple tree soft nickering does curiosity in their low-tone bells swinging bags of dwindling milk over dimpled apples we bathe in sunshine their wild eyes […]Read more "The Goat’s Eyes"
The kiwis ripen in winter. The begins. After cosmic things finished big banging each other. Eve grew weary of the confines of a garden, followed the vine with her eye beyond the hill to the next valley. Adam got busy naming things with the in front over and over again, noun-ness, thus-ness he understood with practice. kiwis sprawl on a […]Read more "The kiwis ripen in winter."
Left with the Care of the Farm The banty rooster’s strident call is light years from grinding war, spinning news, suspicions of sects and warring politicians. His raucous bluster reminds me of a push-button toy gargling squawks only a child enjoys. A hawk whistles across the pasture. The rooster heard it, a wild away. He […]Read more "Left with the Care of the Farm"