All-day tryst in the middle
of milling cattle upon the green,
it could be spring in December—
good sign after two dry years of hay,
something normal like bucks in rut.
Mounting and breeding surround us,
black bulls weave through the bunch
with urgent optimism and aplomb.
No forecast fog, rain, or snow.
Monday gather. Tuesday picnic
upon the green with the neighbors
bringing horses to brand some calves.
drycrikjournal 