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Blow

A wind lifts the leaves in the trees

as two brown hens ruffle down in the grass

and I tug my cap down to my ears

pleased to not be chasing a tennis ball

or up a ladder mending an iron roof

or carrying a candle for peace.

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Collective noun

A commune of cows distinguished by blotches of black and brown over a wide eye, a warm rump   all eat the same grass are constrained by the same wire fence share the same old bull.

 
 
 
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When they ask why you don’t eat meat tell a conspiracy tale about little boy cows being snatched from their mothers so we can enjoy veal with our milk.   Describe the smell of the rain-wet wool on you

 
 
 
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After making her coffee and lunch in the hospice kitchen, I find respite in my book of poems which can hold a hand, an eye, an ear, but...

 
 
 

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© 2025   Greg Judkins

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