Neil Meili
WINTER IN THE BARN
Steam rises from the backs of big horses.
The old Holstein in the second stall
shifts her weights from side to side
matching the rhythm of milking
and flicks her tail at memories
of summer flies
Across the width of barn
I stand with mouth open
in my biggest five year old oval
catching most of the warm milk
squirted dead eye straight
by the laughing hired man
In the tack room
kittens wait by a tin plate
to put their moustache on
In my memory it is always warm in the barn.
HEREFORDSThey’re not as storied as the Texas Longhorn
nor as hairy as those Highland creedsThey’re not nearly as sophisticated
As those new European breedsThey don’t calve out as easy as Angus
But they’ll answer all your needs(and they’re pretty too)
I remember
few things as beautiful
as looking back from the point
and seeing a few hundred Herefords
pouring through a cleft in the hills
down to the home corrals
like a spring flood
red as the earth and blood
rolling with white faced foam.