Wednesday, November 23, 2016


Small cuts sting but do no harm.

When we left The City,
Heading to the hinterlands,
She carried water with her,
Bore bottles across the country.
The were soon drank,
And we were sad to realize
A little more of what we had had
Was gone.

When we left that place
Where the wind sweeps down the plain,
Some things went with us;
We found them there,
And they were useful,
So we kept them.
We have used them since.
Today, I used one up,
And I was reminded that I
Had carried it long.

One thing remains, at least,
And the best of them.
My wife carried her first,
Bearing her from The City
To the hinterlands;
She came with us
To the Hill Country,
And if we leave,
We will carry her again.

She would be no small cut.

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