Monday, July 4, 2011

we went back to the farm, again

No planes in the sky.  Nothing paved.  The water tastes like water, full and velvety on the tongue.  

I heard a lot of chickens, also goats crying.  I saw some hawks, breathed some grass seed, ate some kohlrabi.  

Our phones didn't work.  

Hello, frogs, humping the hills with your voices.  Hello, barn swallows, slicing the evening sky.  There's Robert, doing his rounds.

Many things there are so, so much more the way they should be there.  But we were ready to come back home, all of us, to our little piece of land, with neighbors and friends close at hand.  There is no way to happiness, I guess, as they say.  

Though I do miss the taste of that water.

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