As knees creak before dawn,
I remember, calculate
nearly a quarter of a million bales
on and off a pickup—but
two hundred and fifty
truck and trailer loads
doesn’t sound like much
for a lifetime
of feeding cows
when as many claim
Highway 99 in a day.
Thirty bucks a ton for good,
clean hay when I started—
strong as a bull, mind free
to press the wire,
be anything I wanted.
First few bare steps
to make coffee,
I replay yesterday’s
slow circle, measure
each accomplishment
to lean forward
into today.
drycrikjournal 