Observations at Vernal Equinox

In which the author goes on a journey by taking a leak, gets voyeuristic with poultry, and resists the very human urge to meddle, for now.

It’s been an uneventful kidding season thus far, and that’s a good thing.

A sodden tire rut drunk with rain glints and beckons out beyond the brambled draw. I’ve intruded here to void myself beside a bleak and leafless dogwood. Despite being all alone, I’ve come here in modesty, as if the red wing blackbirds or winter worn cardinals would mind my mictrui…