Holidays were never lame duck days
We were greeted each morning with a warm hug
A mug of hot milk from the cow.
While the cockerel continued to greet the day
Chickens clucked outside the half door.
The sounds from the hen house
Let the household know they had fresh eggs for breakfast.
Wafting throughout the house
The mysterious smells of the farm yard.
The sow house and cow house hives of activity.
Too soon the dog days of schooling returned.
All now long past, yet a solid memory
Which has no idea of time.
Yet for some such memories fade
Like the photograph exposed over time to sunlight.
(c) Chris Black 2017.