APRIL FOOLS

We have come the long way,
rode uneven ground together
ever since that first day

bringing cattle off the mountain,
you there, at the corrals:
Craig’s branding at the cabin.

I could only see pieces of you
busy outside, between the boards,
as we parted cows from calves.

Or was it when he died young,
all consoling one another?
Perhaps the Belle Point cows,

my mixed and colored herd,
fat calves grazing spring,
let you let me touch your hand.

We were friends a long time
before our pillow talk of trust
and honesty, before all this

circling home and horse barn,
our ever-changing garden,
black first-calf heifers at the fence

looking in as we look out
at what we’ve done as one
the long way ‘round.