It is a good day for a sigh.
The crisp by-and-by sky high wind
draws me in.
Inside, the girls are cleaning kitchen
and I'm out with the dogs again.
my friends, godsends to me
to keep the sheep in steep stables
the girls are setting the table.
it's time for a meal.
The bell rings,
and I toss the rolled tobacco tube
and grind it into the dust
with a fifteen-year-old boot.
wipe sweaty grimy dust from my wrinkled face
and race the dogs to the door.
I've been here before.
every day for decades.
the palisades of pine trees
on the mountains
look down
on our little town.
the reservation.
lunch is served.


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