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.
-lupus