Harold's story

New eggs hatch

Baby chicks in cahoots

Some become renegade legends

Others seek the free range

Some prosper with wheat fields of gold

Some want to be where buffalo roam, and cattle are seen for miles

Hearts will fly, the air may be as cold as whiskey rye

She’s still got that sparkle in her eye

Bright stars and big skies

One thing is fo’sure...

Roosters still come crowing, while Hens make a hellabaloo of a hankering

And those fluff ball chicks still show first signs of a new Spring morning

All the while, we been working hard perfectin' our pastry dough

Just like Aunt Bessy totes a fine misbehaving

As we remember those that crossed the great muddy, we pour out a little corn juice, and if we listen close we can still hear them 'round an open campfire singing out old country songs to those star-filled nights about heaven and fights

 

-Harold