May 9, 2014
We have culled the cows again,
dependable girls
raising good calves every year
let me walk within the crowd
of old hides in the corral—
we’ve known each other well.
It was artful, the long trail
of green alfalfa flakes
spaced on dry grassless ground,
last evening’s table set before
I called them from their shade tree—
before today’s auction ring.
It’s time.
They will never look
this good again.
drycrikjournal 
Hate this truth. My old gelding is past ever looking good again, and it might be true for me as well. Sigh.
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C’est la vie! Part of the price of surviving, I guess. I am reminded that it could be worse. My little luxury, this last supper for the girls, made me feel a little better before they go to town. Thanks for the laugh this morning. 🙂
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