The farmhouse rests on a flat, grain-growing, dusty, wonderful world. I am three. Outside I want to meet the dog who guards the farm.
Then I am on the ground. Someone says they will shoot that dog. Another stitches my eyebrow and cheek. I did not mean to frighten him.
LAZY BRUSH AND QUIET AIR
LIZARD RUNS AWAY
Written for dVerse Haibun Monday 28.