Sunday, September 1, 2013

she calls

at the edge of the farm, she calls.
that distant voice, familiar - 
gliding, as if ripples on the water 
propels the name closer, closer.
it is my name, carried in the wind.
and to home I run.

(sometimes the words find us)


Kari from Meadowview Farm said...

Each morning, each evening...I call their names. I hope that they will all run home to me. Mom used to call me in too. Returning home does a heart good.

Barb said...

These words immediately took me back to our little farm in Iowa. Good memories! Thank you for sharing.

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