My road is at the top of a hill. It drops steep, turns here and there, and ends at a footbridge over a creek where boys with bare legs catch crayfish, and the local cats prowl the boys’ buckets, and the crayfish snap at the cats’ noses, and beyond the creek is the village school where children play and scream with delight, their voices carrying up the hill so clearly that you’d swear they were standing beside you, and every night just before midnight, a small red fox burrows into my potted begonias and takes a shit.
The wonder of it
Wake to the smell of coffee
And love you all day
Written for (1) Twiglets “All My Days” and (2) a reply to a friend’s post on Facebook. Image from Flickr Commons. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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