Now I know why
cowboys love the morning.

As azure heavens drop to earth,
winds whip across the prairie
brisk as aftershave.
Fields so wide they hold
every risk a day could bring:
stubborn steer
                                    and
                                                 wayward
                                                                                calves,
muscles pulled and sometimes,
come spring,
a colt or two battles the birth sac
before dropping to earth beneath
the same azure heavens
that greet its callous-handed doula
each
beloved
morning.

Photo and poem by Debra B. Darvick