“Red Gulch, sir. 12–9–3
Is spilling lach on Mary Black;
Have Jane retaliate.”
Two minutes more and he hears Jane roar,
While he thinks this hymn of hate:
“That north forty must look pretty,
Head high, now, and ears all set;
And the haystacks in the meadow—
Wonder if they’ve mowed it yet?
Crickets clicking in the stubble;