IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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ANNA CERNIK'S DIARY: OF DAUGHTERS AND SONS

Mark Sanders

Papa came in this morning angry at the winter. He had been with one of his calving cows most of the night, had to drive her to the barn through snow to his knees, and the calf's hind legs coming first, the wet of birth freezing fast. Mama in the barn held the lantern for Papa as he worked. I held the cow's head to calm and steady her. But Papa could not pull the calf himself, it was lodged so. Then the cow fell to her knees, rolled over to her side, her great belly heaving and heavy with her death. Mama, feeding little Tina who slept through it, said Papa would not drink his coffee, eat his breakfast, but went out early to chore. Then he came back in, angry at the winter. Said over and over he wishes he'd had a son to help him pull, needed more muscle to do what last night had to be done. Over and over said he was angry at the winter.

 
 
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