On a Farm. Two Herds met

Here. Where just a week before there were cows and cow flops and the smell of tractor fuel and the sound of the wind caught against the corrugated shed roofing. Now there are people.

What of the people?

They have sleek aerodynamic tents and stiff boots for the elements.

They have a Friday worn face that has relaxed a little in the deep breathing of Saturday.

Their coats rustle along with the bags from the bottle shop and clank against the drainpipes and the farm machinery.

They smile thin and unsure in the red light of dusk.

Later under a black canopy they transform into warm liquid and smoke.

Their heavy steps feel light and airy.

What of the Pranksters?

There. Amongst the cow sheds we drank and loose footed forgot the 9-5 drums.

Pranksters looked on at us sadly, shook their heads and thought of the poor cows – noses snuffling feed troughs.

Pranksters forgot to say hello and we felt fear before we knew why, so we drank deeper and tried to laugh them aside.

And they fell away for us.

We forgot about them and in the warm morning light and it’s empty belly they berated us for our fear and their own.

We wore it for them and let them go.

Here. Two herds met.