After wet holidays,
cattle high on hillsides
slick and leaking,
stray snow flakes dance
like tiny leaves
over the fence between
neighbors making plans
to brand and celebrate
another New Year’s Eve
well-before midnight.
Silence mid-sentence
punctuates the cold
and red scarf wrapped
beneath your eyes
like a terrorist
off the mountain
when you would rather be
reading a book
by the fire
with nothing else to do
on the Sabbath.
for Steve






Poignant – when you’ve got animals, there’s no rest day.
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