So Cold
George at working corrals, winter
Home Ranch, Carbon County, Wyoming
photo by Sharon O'Toole
SO COLD
Frost mists rise from man and beast
Our crystal breath, ice and steam
Puffs ephemeral, path of least
Resistance, a ghosting stream.
We push forward, crunch and huddle
Through crackling snow, we shove and hunch
Through paneled gauntlet, icy muddle
Of baaing, milling sheepy bunch.
They know warmth in woolen garb,
We too are wooled but feel bare skin
Freeze and burn with winter’s barb.
I wrap and tie and wrap again.
Windy fingers creep and shove,
They poke and pry, “Let me inside”
They grasp my hands, invade my glove
Probe balled fists I try to hide.
Ewe by ewe, through sorting pen
We stomp and wave, but mostly huff.
Border collies nip and bend
While guard dogs curl in tail-wrapped ruff.
Horse statues stand, with frosted glow,
Hair sparkling up like diamond dust,
Backs to the wind, heads held low,
Hooves paw the crunchy snowy crust.
Beneath our feet roll icy balls
Manure bits now marble hard
That tease and threaten slippery falls
And make this earth a moving yard.
The pistol shot of sorting gate
And tally cry as sheep make way
Straight on to where the pasture waits
To nurture them for one more day
And nurture us, for weeks and years.
This sage and snow marks our fates
While winter’s breath, and ours and theirs
Rises timeless. Evaporates.
