I was the oldest, the "responsible" one -- when I wanted to sleep in, my mother said, "Your father -- and our farm -- are counting on you." Here is a bit of my poetic reaction:
COUNTING ON
One
Two two
Three three three
Four four four four
Five five five five five
That's how it was growing --
growing up
on the farm
milking cows
gathering eggs
scattering grains of corn
for hens --
counting counting counting . . .
counting on.
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