The sheep huddle their heads low. Insects, like dust, swirl around their ears and eyes. Their bodies vibrate rhythmically with their labored breath. It’s already hot.
Because I’m there the barn swallows circle over my head, chirping fiercely trying to distract me from their fledglings poking their heads out of the nest.
I left the gate open last night so the sheep and donkeys could graze in the shade of night. Now they’re content to rest in the pole barn, chewing their cud, waiting out the day.
