Free
Range
Insurrection or some dereliction
a latch left dangling or machinations
long in the works, The Salt Lick Plot
perhaps, freed you from bondage
tyranny of the teat cup, cold
hand of Big Ag, you were left
ambling wild eyed and stricken
by the world’s delights and horrors
delivered wholesale at a stroke.
Watching you in the rearview
engulfed in my dust, enameled eyes
white as roadside diner crockery
I had a moment of envy green
as new mown hay that evaporated
with the mighty pull of the barn
headlong return to your contented
ways, well-worn confines for me
the path back a song I know by heart.
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