Farm Day

It was before dawn. In the pitch black of the barn, I followed the cries of the new born kid.
I clean “Baby” and hold her close to me. I feel her heart pound against me through the towel. I nourish her with milk and as the morning breaks, she grows strong. She stands tall and shivers off the last dampness of the womb.
Soon she’s crying for my milk when she sees me – her “Earth mother”.

Now the day has grown long and we have traded places – It is I who waits for her – my “Earth mother”.

I sit on the stand next to her and rest my head on her flank and give her a little kiss – “Respect” as they say. She lets down her milk, “Pshhht, pshht, pshht…” it sprays white into the black pot. Then with pot in hand I leave the barn and walk back to the house.
The cat waits patiently at the corner. I lift his bowl and pour in a little more than a thimble full. The “old man” laps it up, then cuts his eyes at me, “Manyana – bitch.” he purrs.

The dogs are watching – waiting – fidgeting – they know it’s their turn – animals might not understand, but they sure as hell “know”. I walk to their bowl while they circle around me, jockeying for position. I lift it up and pour in a cup or two and place it back down – snouts are in and lapping it up furiously.

In the kitchen i pour myself a small glassful and then the rest into the green glass pitcher – maybe a quart and a half – still warm with foam on the top, and place it in the fridge – raw, unfiltered – nature’s perfect remedy.

I lift up the glass to my lips – “For what we are about to receive….”.

I close my eyes and feel it all – “Baby’s” love and healing tonic begins to course through my body – out to my fingers – down to my toes.

I shiver off the day’s “slings and arrows” and look out at the red, low-hanging sun – soon it will be dark again.

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