A Saga in Six Days of Life When You Live on a Farm: Featuring Boo Radley and the Unexpected, Day 1

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Day 1:

around midnight

over the sound machine

something woke me

I heard it ~

the bumping

at first

I thought it was

in the attic

(a squirrel? raccoon?)

something bigger than

the occasional field mouse

so common on our farm

but then

it was at my

head, behind the wall

my husband

heard it too

sprang into action

flipped the switch

floodlights revealing

a herd of cows

grazing in the grass

inches from our windows

two bulls

one black and white

one milk and dark chocolate

matching my leather purse

from White Oak Pastures

in South Georgia

my husband gave me last Christmas

I’d heard closer than usual mooing

from Wayne and Janice’s field

right at the fence line

behind our barn

earlier in the day

It’s okay, I told him~

probably Wayne’s cows

we’ll call in the morning

right now it’s a win-win

they’re cutting the grass

their midnight snack

we settled back in

mended our broken sleep

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers at Slice of Life

Saturday Sunshine Voting Slapdown – The Stafford Challenge Day

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An Election Day Reflection

Saturday Afternoon  2/25/2024 12:21

(a poem written during February’s preliminary for May’s Election Day)

I’m sitting in the car 

waiting

again

a typical stop 

while he talks and talks and talks

we only stopped to early vote ~no lines~

sun shines warm in this cold air

Rav4 my greenhouse, Caribbean blue

I clean out the car trash

notice a bush being windslapped

throwing up a limb

talk to the hand !

    as if suddenly offended

I can’t help wondering

if it’s because it is a political hedge

reacting to the lack of lines

and all the fresh gossip 

of no one waiting

Actual talk to the hand tree looking offended

Decisions

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we looked

you drove

I rode

we talked

we offered

they rejected

we walked

and just like that:

decisions are made

On Hearing the News

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one of my adult daughters

still calls novels

chapter books ~

on hearing

our family news

she texted:

there I was

listening to my own

chapter book

in my own

little world

of someone else’s

little did I know

there was another

story unfolding

in my own….

I smiled and replied

this could be the start

of a new chapter…….

What Wolves Do

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don’t let a wolf

in the hen house

first, you’ll see

a feather, wayward

flitting in the breeze

stuck to the ground

next you’ll

come up short

on the evening

headcount

twelve will be ten

then eight as

two by two

they all disappear

consumed by the

always hungry wolf

doing what wolves do:

devouring the innocent

Two-Wheeled Wonderings

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as we were driving

to our campsite

a teenage girl

crashed her bike

into a red clay hill

falling among the

rocks and it seemed

on purpose

…..that’s

one thing….but

when I took the

dogs for a walk

a preteen boy

crashed his bike

(jerked the handlebars!)

on the concrete

(on purpose!)

skidding flesh

of knees and palms

the very next day

leaving me to

ponder:

what does this say?

Purple Foxglove Forgiveness Haiku

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am I naive to

believe that purple foxgloves

bloom in forgiveness?

that what was destroyed

smiles Heaven’s understanding

and blesses again?

or am I just a

poet choosing to believe

signs hold messages?

Feeding Turtles Marshmallows

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I was mad since you

were late so I fed turtles

all your marshmallows

no roasting for you

our discussion was our campfire

spark, flame, sizzle, blaze

they smiled and thanked me

reminded me to tell you

to keep slowing down.

Has Tomorrow Come?

when I’m birdwatching

and you’re nodding

off in the chair

next to me on

our campsite,

me: thrilled in

a composed way

behind my binoculars

and you with

holes in your socks

broken-breath quiet snores

I wonder ~


are we those old

people we’ve

always known

we’d become

one day?