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Apr 2017
Each head accounted for
and every paycheck cashed,
we hunched near a campfire.
My father struck a match
and touched the tip of a Lucky Strike.
The horses whinnied softly
and stomped their hooves,
the cattle bawled in the corral.
My father leaned closer to the fire
took one long dirt-flavored drag
drew another square from the pack
and wished one day he could watch it all burn.
This piece is to be published in 'Oregon East' this coming fall.
Sam Temple
Written by
Sam Temple  Oregon
(Oregon)   
  709
       ---, Mary-Eliz, kim, SøułSurvivør, Mack and 3 others
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