WAITING FOR DAYLIGHT

No alarm clock here, we take turns
waking-up on the hour before the first
branding of the year, lists of implements,

food and vaccines checked in our sleep
before heading up the hill, leaving
convenience for the make-do miles

off the asphalt where anything can happen
despite best-laid plans. We should be
too old, too accustomed to this drill

to toss and turn—we should be sure
and secure with familiar faces and horses,
good hands and neighbors come to help,

like always. Grown old together, we
understand what we have lost—yet shake out
another loop just to grin into the sun.