(the cows sometimes burrow their noses into the hay and eat and eat and eat in one spot only until they've created these little hay vortices/tornadoes/black holes)

today I drove 40 mins over the taghkanics to a nearby dairy farm
as I do every saturday and sunday afternoon, to milk the cows
who I found to be so blessedly normal
in spite of all that had changed since last week
the cows so blissfully unaware of anything but their cowness
& the greening of the grass & the pending spring
each their usual mix of tender or naughty or feisty as all get out

elvie snuck into 3 different stalls trying to get an extra ration of grain,
and aimed a kick swiftly squarely at my shin
before I finally coaxed her into the spot that is her own
mimo and winona and roxanne were sweet as pie, sweet as ever
and ezmae was such a bitch that I considered quitting when I got to her (then the moment passed, and I’m sure I’ll have forgiven her by sunday)
elsie cooed to her tiny new babe the next stall over all thru milking
and lightning showed a patience that I took to be a sign
she’s growing up from the punk teenager I first met two years ago
and lakota stood still and calm and unflinching and resolute, and I leaned my full weight into her flank and exhaled more deeply than I have all week