by Cheryl Merrick
Like a bird soaring
high above the ground,
I see patterns below me
and am warmed
by the light from above.
Not built for rock moving,
I collapse in exhaustion
beside my the pitiful pile
-- my full day's work.
Having chosen the earth
where his strength is needed,
the powerful draft horse
sees my plight.
In a few hours he has
all my rocks neatly piled
where they need to be.
Satisfied with his accomplishment,
he listens to my tales
of the view from the sky.
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