A River of Stones

Three Little Pebbles

Another canine traffic jam at the door.
Sit. Stay…. Okay
Like lit bottle rockets they launch, rounding the corner of the house to some imagined danger I cannot see.

A thousand toads bleat and honk,while rain sizzzles on the roof.
The pond is full.
Finally, the drought ends.

Sharp air, frost on the ground, my horse snorts whorls of frozen breath