He stood in the square banging his drum.
It made a repetitive beat.
No one asked about it.
A crowd never stopped.
It could have meant anything—nothing.
A woman came from another village.
She heard the drum, stopped.
So did he.
The line breaks and hanging line indents may be incorrectly formatted because I cannot be bothered to fiddle with the HTML. View the correct formatting in the full collection To a Blind Horse (and subscribe at the top of the page).
ashley dunn 
Leave a comment