The fog-like darkness surrounds me.
It envelops the manger before me,
Pushes the stalls into deep unknown recesses.
Close by the horses munch their hay,
The odor of timothy blends
With the fragrance of the night.
Slowly I make my way to glimmering light rays
Where Dad is milking.
The kerosene lantern hangs on a nail
Casting its warm glow,
It scatters deep shadows in a wide circle.
Cats on their haunches await an arc of milk.
Cows labor over evening grain in deep troughs.
A cold and whining winter wind sings to the night,
The dim cattle stall brings peace and comfort.
A hay mow beyond holds the harvest of many acres.
The chill of winter is held at bay by thick barn walls.
I listen to the song of milk streaming into pails.
A quiet tranquil farmstead winter night.
Oh the wonder and reverie of milking time!
(February 2000)