The Anti-Dehydration Shuffle

I've decided that the more beautiful and interesting the landscape of a farm, the more complicated it is to bring fresh water to all the animals. A winding waltz takes me from the cow, goats and sheep, donkeys, and pony to the doves and pheasants, to the main fowl area where my partner changes from a cumbersome green gentleman to a more consistent yellow fellow. From the geese to the bunnies to the chicks to the ducks, we swing and sway and soak my sandals. And all the while, one dog or another nudges my knees and elbows for attention. As if remembering every thirsty fowl weren't pressure enough for attention and love. Tomorrow, I'll try to milk the cow and carry straw instead. My wet feet too constantly remind me of this dizzy dance and its unquestionable necessity. Farmhands are important. That is plural, as in having more than one of them.