Music Trading

Raspberry Bushes

Crouching in the brush,
my brother and I,
obscured by bushes,
sitting silently,
quiet as kids can be,
listen to conversations.
Visiting relatives
talking and laughing
in the driveway
with Mom.
"Meeeooww," my brother calls.
"Meeeooww," he calls again.
Conversation stops.
"Listen," someone says.
"A kitty,
in the bushes.
Here kitty kitty."
"Meeeowww," my brother answers.
He grins at me.
I grin back.
"Meeooowww," I call.
"Meeeooww," he follows.
"Oh, not one,"
someone says,
"two kitties!
Here kitty kitty."
"Meeeoowww," we both answer.
"Meeowwww, Meoww, Meeeoww,"
back and forth
between us
we call, "Meeooww."
"Oh, here kitty kitty,"
many voices cry,
excited by the kitties.
"Meeoww," my brother calls.
"Meeeoww," I follow.
"Meeeooww," I call again.
my brother follows.
Disappointed voices
heard between giggles:
"Those aren't kitties.
Those are raspberry bushes."

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