From My Porch

Crowing all the time. Ten roosters. Boisterous, bodacious, big guy roosters are crowing all the time. They crow to out crow one another. They crow to show off for the hens. They crow because that's what they do.
Roosters came to River's Wish when they had no place to go.
I hear the roosters from my porch.
Their doodling is carried through the wind, woven through the russeling of leaves.
I hear the whinny of a horse and the squeel of another.
From my porch I see a friend, a volunteer, grooming Precious, the sheep. I see Lucy in the grass. She's so cute.
I see the girls, the Yorkshire girls, rooting. They love to root.
I see their heart and soul. I see their happiness when they roll in the mud. I am in awe when they run with pure joy. I see them as fellow inhabitants on this planet.
The locust tree insisted on growing. She is not giving up. She is persistent, determined and tough. She is beautiful and I am glad she is here.
My dog Claire just kissed me. What comfort that gives me. She is a fellow travelor with her own stories to tell.
The roosters are crowing again. Their crowing reminds me of how they were unwanted and had no place to go. Here they do not hold back their crowing.


Post a Comment