We know something’s coming,
the forecast changes every morning—
self-assured weathermen unabashed.

Cows don’t care for holidays,
have no plans—listen for the diesel
mantra to fill their bellies.

Half the hay barn is unemployed
and shed no rain. We meet at the gate
at dawn, glad to see one another

doing well in our small world
of dust trails. We know something’s
coming because it always does.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.