MORE GOATS?

I HOPE YOU ARE LOVING MY FIRST BLOG IMAGE! (Especially you, ChaPants Giddy Goat Girl.) (And you, my fresh, son Justin--I read the manual, thanks to your nuuuudging!) ANYONE FOR MORE GOATS?

A SONG FOR MERENA

At Fern Hill Farm it's evening milking time the July hay is freshly mown coolness, hushing the warm air eases its way into the barn Papa has nighttime shift.

The wayward chicken flown the coop clucks a play by play narration from the rail of the wooden pen The Nubian goats poke their heads through the gate their udders full and waiting

Penelope is first. Without a tug, she clops into the milking room Papa situates the stainless steel pail.

Rachael’s favorite time is with the goats and Papa. Barely lighting on the wide board sawdust floors She is a firefly in pajamas chatting simple, profound questions Penelope squirt, squirting into the pail Papa's patient answers.

Merena's turn. My favorite, Rachael pirouettes Why is she your favorite, Papa asks. Because she is beautiful!

Rachael tip toes around to Merena’s moon eyed puppy dog eared, jaw toothed moose snouted head.

Papa situates the stainless steel pail. I want to sing her a song, OK, Papa? the milk squirt, squirts

Rachael swirling in Merena’s eyes whispers a melody a wistful, made up song:

You are beautiful, Merena you are my beautiful goat.

copyright July 2007 Nancy Morgan Boucher

THE PRETZEL IS

A TWISTY TIE

IT CURLS UP IN

A CLOVER LEAF

ONCE WAY BACK

I KNEW A GUY

WHO ATE A PRETZEL

TO THE BEAT

(IT WAS NEAT)

OF ROCKIN' ROBIN

BOB, BOB, BOBBIN'

ALONG.

Pretzel Poet