Our pasture is where coal and railroads once ran. Black smoke belched productively from engines but poured delicately from stoves in shops and bars that no longer stand. The cows no nothing of this account but graze here to die for someone's table -- unbothered and curious by our presence.
For the Monday midnight shift: Rose Valley #1 will work, Franklin #2 will work, Powhatan #6 will work, Saginaw will not work.
The random treats your dad left in his dinner bucket traveled underground but were lucky enough to see the light in your small hand. I tell you that I love you and the unwritten history we share.