The dry brown leaves

                                    Raced across the pasture this morning,

                                    They leaped, skipped, and flew

                                    All the way to the fence.

 

                                    Then they piled on top of each other,

                                    Laughing, tickling, and jostling.

                                    Whispering joy in their

                                    Wild pasture dance.

 

                                    Their sprint exposed

                                    The tender new green grass

                                    To the sun,

                                    To the rain,

                                    And to the hungry goats.

                                                                                                           Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                                            February 20, 2014