mjblathers

dark poet who loves to laugh

pasture at dawn

Leave a comment

before dawn, fog is chill

cold-marinating the skin

nibbling through flesh

penetrating to marrow

through bones no longer

strong to frame the cow

exhausted by labor

 

breech, the calf, half-emerged

cannot see, can barely hear

the howls of coyotes gathered

yapping, pacing, watching

closing near

then slinking from

frantic mother-not yet mother

 

she’s fought through the night

the cold

the malice

but now she groans

and sinks

to wobbling knees

 

a single daffodil

stands helpless guard

Advertisements

Author: mjnordgren

as a retired physician, i have needed to talk with many persons about end of life. And then I cared for my husband for more than five years.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s