Lined up on a clean white rag.
Mama takes a rest.
The Winged Menace
Cackles from high up his tree.
Goats chew cud below.
Children feed the goats.
Hay sticks to their shirts and pants.
Man, it’s so itchy.
Front
end, back end, switch.
Up, down, on the log, away.
Dog guards from afar.
Sun beats down on backs.
Dust floats up from parched red earth.
Time grinds to a halt.
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