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Southerly, the Fence Post

Permanent Address

A Barred Plymouth Rock rooster in a worn olive waxed cotton field jacket over a cream henley, leaning against the railing of a weathered wooden farmhouse porch with a ceramic coffee mug beside him, overcast dawn sky and rolling meadow with fence posts in soft bokeh behind

They departed at first light, the way they always do — without luggage, without explanation, without so much as a forwarding address. He watched until the last formation dissolved into the overcast, then returned to his coffee with the quiet certainty of a man whose coordinates have never required updating.

9 May 2026