He rang the bell three times
then four
and three again
it was the sign.
everyone waited
pausing into the stillness
of the blue morning
no birds sang and
insects were still
only the close sounds,
breathing, hearts beating
then at the crest of the brown hill
came the creak of wagons
the dull thuds of oxen plodding
measuring the road towards the town
“they’re coming,” one boy spoke
admonishing eyes turned towards him
and he shut his now trembling mouth
eyes turned back to the road
waiting for their future to arrive.
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