A flannel barn shirt buttoned but
resisting a jacket, feeling as uneasy
as the horses, hay blown wide,
flighty hooves at feeding time.
A biting wind from the north
held strong through dusk, dark
too early, a chill too soon. Not
warm under light bed clothes but
not wanting to lose even that heat
getting up for a quilt. As if the cool
penance of poor sleep could stave
off change that’s already come.