peasley poor farm

where we pick berries,

the man said he went out

at last light,  a large bush

was nearly ready to pick.

the next morning he went out

the bush was empty;

three deer were asleep

in the grass under it.

dawning

woke up slow

got clean, ready for the day.

from the window

caught the first glint of sun

cracking over the horizon.

suddenly i froze;

an idea was coming to mind.

coffee . . .  thought of that too.

i'd make some and sip,

think a bit what to do.

going to make this day

worthwhile.