There was a man going out to get water. He carried a wooden bucket squeaking an a bale. Who could not have heard? Darkness. Night birds were singing. An opulent star. The faceless moon was close. Where could he possibly have gotten to? There was a certain breeze. The trees shook their green fruit. One, two, thuds upon the earth, and the earth opened. the bucket, too was never found.
©2006-Allen Sutterfield
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