Early Morning Chores

At four in the morning, I start my day,

    with my beloved horses wanting hay.

My barn's not far away:

    a few steps in darkness or shadow on the path I stay.

The stars do offer the most stunning shine.

And in my heart, I think they're mine.

I sing a nursery rhyme

    to myself, and I think in perfect pitch and time.

The crickets seem to chirp along

    and they continue in beats and song.

The world's asleep,

    but I have demands to meet

    of creatures great and small.

They depend on me for all.

The barn cat offers up a yowl,

    though surely safe on thick warm towels.

He too is ready to eat

    and lets me know, not time to greet.

He wants his food and wants it now.

And so the horses chime in to.

Hay is no enough so I have much to do.

And there is a warning from the owl,

    a hoot, a toot from one who views me with a scowl,

    for lighting up the pre-dawn sky,

    when he sees no reason why.

Like me, he much prefers the stars for light

    and the moon, an almost white.

He sits on the tractor, hard to sight,

    with what I think is owl-delight.

In a second off he flies without a sound.

A tree, short distance down the road, he's found,

    where only light from star and moon abounds.

There are many hopping, croaking toads

    down my farm house road. 

So when I lead my horses out to field and grass,

    I walk with ginger-steps near each to pass.

Once in his field, my gelding jumps and bucks as if a clown.

My mare and pony greet him with a frown.

The box-turtle in the aisle shuttles past my feet

    in a search for cat food which he loves to eat.

And once the feeding, cleaning and watering  for now is done,

    I smell the air so fresh and know that soon will come the morning sun.

Yet, there is a quiet still under the fading moon and stars.

The trees as sentinels to my work and love cast shadows far.

And though, at times, I might complain or sigh at my reality,

    there is, in truth and heart, no other place I'd rather be.