From one home, to another. Light ears and Dark ears. Both fought. I’m supposed to what? Here we are- children. We’re looking at a fence, waiting for a cat. One has half an ear. A frog died in the make-shift swimming pool. That was nearly our first home. It’s hard to remember which home was our home. Yet, we both, are expected to produce exceptional happenings. Who’s to hold our fort? It doesn’t matter. I once fell from a tree. We’d built a fort with hammers and nails. I lay, asleep, and there he was, catching me while rocks waited below. Here, I’ll be, for him. Brothers.