Four Round Bales. Photo by Todd Klassy. To see more of Todd's rural photography, visit www.toddklassy.com.
He squints from under a John Deere cap
even when there is no sun. It's late fall now,
the hay—enough this year—baled
for January feeding if the pickup makes it
to the herd—huddled, wooly, steamy breath
to match his own, pitch fork separating clouds
of gold, strewing it like loaves and fishes--
that kind of pride, though pride's a wobbly perch
when drought and blight's the norm, when the pickup
needs a fuel pump, barn needs shingles.
But this morning, the sky's wide and blue
and bare, and Waylon's singing Ramblin' Man
while he hums along. Bernice'll have coffee
scalding hot at the cafe, and prices were up
on the farm report this morning. Folks and steers
ain't so different, he reckons, herd gathering,
keeping with their kind.
Sarah Russell has returned to her first love after a career teaching, writing and editing academic prose. Her poetry has appeared in Red River Review, Misfit Magazine, The Houseboat, Shot Glass Journal, Bijou Poetry Review and Poppy Road Review, among others. Her poem “Denouement” won the GR poetry contest in February, 2014. Follow her work at www.SarahRussellPoetry.com.
The Ekphrastic Review
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