Mountain Lodge Farm

Mountain Lodge Farm

 

Questa, queen of the herd, demands a scratch,

the bucklings jump and bleat and prance,

aiming for my birthday hat.

Questa, queen of the herd, demands a scratch,

just there – by keyhole eyes and bearded patch.

Springtime sprouts, the does labor, and the kids dance.

Questa, queen of the herd, demands a scratch,

the bucklings jump and bleat and prance.

 


Na/GloPoWriMo Day Seven asks us to write about joy.    Baby goats are my happy place, and I had the luck and good fortune to spend yesterday celebrating my birthday at Mountain Lodge Farm, a farmstead creamery, for their April Open House.  I may never have giggled as much as when a month-old goat climbed over me to get at my hair for a nibble.  (Mountain Lodge’s cheese is mighty delicious, too.)

I don’t have the words for that joy yet, perhaps never, so I thought I’d try a triolet.  It’s a French 8-line rhyming poetry form that goes like this:

A (first line – rhyme A)
B (second line – rhyme B)
a (rhymes with A)
A (repeat first line)
a (rhymes with A)
b (rhymes with B)
A (repeat first line)
B (repeat second line)

3 thoughts on “Mountain Lodge Farm

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