Bri's Birds And Other Creatures Poem by Kim Barney

One fine summer day I met my friends Logan Derrington and Crenshaw Kendall for a stroll down Honeysuckle Lane, an unpaved road through pastures, meadows and memories.

We saw Farmer Bullock's cows wandering toward their feeding area. One of them put its foot up to a dumped-over barrel and then withdrew it rapidly, as if it had seen something fearful.

'I want to see what's over there, ' said Logan. He ducked through the barbed-wire fence, tearing his trousers in the process, a minor catastrophe, then promptly stepped in a mixture of mud and manure. The goo seemed to want to hold him there forever, but he managed to extract himself.

Meanwhile, Crenshaw had started playing some music of flute and piccolo on his boombox, but it was obnoxious, so I asked him to quit it.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, it seemed, Crenshaw's sister, Kendra Kendall, appeared and demanded that Cren return the boombox to her, the rightful owner.

Sadly, what we had wanted to be a giant adventure was over too soon. The three of us walked back to Logan's house, where his mom made things somewhat better by piling huge helpings of ravioli on our plates.