My girl.
My man.
A woodstove.
…
And a dog,
And some chickens.
A writer's notes on family
by sue campbell
by sue campbell
by sue campbell
Maybe summer will come in June.
Rain will stop. STOP. STOP. STOP.
The soil will dry for planting.
Nora will dig with little tools.
Chickens will not eat the seedlings.
Pathways and beds will be mulched.
Cucumbers will be turned into pickles.
Extra tomatoes will not be wasted.
Green beans frozen for the dog.
Snap peas eaten off the vine.
Potato harvest will be a blast.
For Nora loves to uncover spuds.
Crying out, “Potato! A big one!”