the goatherd doesn't write much
unless she scripts the sky
she watches from the heated house
as goats graze in her yard
she scratches as the chickens do
looking for grub or seed
the dogs would oust her from her spot
but her attention feasts inside.
- it's just to f***ing cold today, we walked to feed Alaska, but we're dread to venture on another walk - tho must go check for eggs.
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