digital photoart: ralph murre
A Farmer
Searches for His Livestock
During a
Snow Storm
by
Linda Blaskey
He
imagines them huddled
together
by now, long
eyelashes
rimed with ice.
Their
hoof prints blown over
making
it hard to track
them.
Guernseys and Jerseys .
Like
his grandfather,
only
Guernseys and Jerseys .
Sure,
there are others
that
produce more,
the
brash-colored Holstein ,
the
Norwegian Red, but it’s the muted tones
of
his girls, their dark points,
that
stir something in him.
He
loves to slide his hand
along
their warm flanks,
feel
the contour, like he loves
to
run his hand over his wife’s hip
as
she lies on her side in their bed.
He
thinks of this as he trudges
through
drifts, whistling, calling,
listening
for the lead cow’s bell.
A
crow sits on a fence post, its caw
like
a knell. Its dark eye
watches
him pass as snow sifts down.
~
first published in The Delmarva Review
