Three wooden sisters
recall the homebound cattle
at the death of day.
I call these wooden corral posts "the three sisters." The old posts and ruined fences out here seem to take on their own identity. Weathered by wind, silvered by sun, they have faces, knots and shoulders. At one time, cattle and sheep grazed here; before that, there were buffalo. Now there are just a lot of tumbleweeds, prickly pear, rocks and a handful of human loners who are looking after the space.
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