A Singular Lack of Silence
Sometimes it happens.
The brain churns out doggerel.
It couldn’t really be helped, especially since it was produced by the wry mood I often have about life here in these very rural parts: a pasture full of cows across a dirt road (see photo above), a barn with chickens and now a couple of heifers next door, coyotes at night—always. And the little bug sou…
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