Passing by Hunnewell Farm
The air spiked with honey, barn red
wood, trees the color of coriander seed.
Small rocks snap under the pressure of my tires
as I roll towards the fence.
I press my eye against the camera, watch wind
waft through the tall grass the cow
The life of this animal-- nothing to do but
amble into the shade of an oak
this gentle morning.
© Linda R. O’Connell 9/7/13