Farmhand Daze

stories of what time and when and where

can be retired to memory

but feelings can’t

sleeping as big spoon

and little

on a twin mattress

muscles rock-hardened

from the previous day’s labor

waking up

to the sun

(your only alarm)

yesterday’s cold sweat

when you pull on the boot

the heft of the hay bale

the insistence of the twine

attempts to cut its grooves

against your gloved hand

satisfying suction where hoof meets sand

howl of dogs when they sense coyote

shake of the dreaded rattle

at the far end of much-feared

snake-tail

then—

sage’s scent lures you downcanyon

lean waaay back in your saddle

when the horse slinks down

glimpse horizon

glimpse cloud

glimpse sky

turn her towards home

lean waaay forward upcanyon

lay your shoulder to her shoulder

your cheek to her neck

glimpse her hoof

where it meets the ground

breathe deep

salty stew slides down your throat

to the emptiest stomach you’ve ever known

after a full day’s ride

darkness covers the valley

under her blanket

stars take up their residence in sky

until—

sun filters through your lashes

…and you wake up