Icy winter morning
The air thick with woodsmoke
And frost
We wake up on the farm
More adventure waiting outside
Than in the small house
Scarves, solid breath
The duckpond calls us
With secrets and plans
Parents and friends forgotten
Even the cold is on hold
I am a free goat herder
Doing cartwheels in my mind
Until the sun sets quickly
The ducks fold their wings
We rub our hands numb
ready for baths.
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