Farm Life

We sat in the back of the pickup truck
Where the air felt crisp and cold and living;
At the top of the hill we jumped the gate–
The hinges groaned, but they stood forgiving
And the bull just grazed as we skirted by,
Not getting too close, just close enough
To leave some feed and a new salt lick
And a silly face, to prove we were tough.

And after the rounds we’d cross the old creek
As we bounced happily on our make-shift seats
Of haybales, wheel wells, and empty buckets
That sometimes knocked us on our pleats,
But we’d just laugh and say it’s alright,
‘Cause that meant we might just remember this day
A little better for the bruising.

And after biscuits we’d play in the hay
In the loft of the barn that smells like cozy
And maybe a round of the garden game,
Or sequence, or run around the house
And count our pictures in each frame,
Or maybe just sit with a good book or two,
Or set up the annual prank call,

Or sit and talk and laugh and listen
And that is the best time of all.



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Because Russ L asked

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