A Cold Morning In Iowa
It is a cold morning in Iowa
Not bitter like January knife wind days
But cool enough for a jacket
I wish I had brought one out here
Silence is everywhere
Which makes the day seem colder
I think of my red sweater and my pink jacket
But then the hens begin to cluck
My cold is nothing compared to their hunger
They have to have nourishment if they are to lay
I blaze on, sprinkling feed about my feet
which are also annoyed by the five-thirty chill
Where is the sunrise? With her warming rays.
The farmer's almanac must have been wrong.
I thought it was scheduled for 5:38 this morning.
Sunrise greets my back as I head to my house.
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