Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature,
They will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum.
But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother.
It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard,
The wind in the grass.
And as he stares into the sky,
There are twice as many stars as usual.



joey | he/him | all of my interests ever blog | art only is @redtailarchive.
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Huddles lonely in my egg
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