Downy breasts and fledgling tails bosom
beneath barn's bare bulb and beams gilded gold
as mother settles nearby - swooping flight
and darting wing stilled for the night.
Horses stomp, nose their hay
as mountain air and far flung stars vie for center stage;
light switched off, feet shuffle as I walk well worn path
to nestle my own babes to bed.
by Margaret Bednar, June 21, 2017