A small seam of fog hangs

above the pasture

at the base of the bluffs.

Black cows graze

in the dim light,

oblivious to fog and bluffs,

oblivious to all but grass

and the occasional

passing semi

Jake-braking

for the left-turning car

just after the curve

and before the bridge.

I’d like to sit here on the porch a while,

tiny streams of steam

drifting above the edge of the cup,

eating my toast

in the slow haze of rising

too early after too little sleep,

oblivious to all but fog and bluffs,

black cows grazing in the dim light

and Him who has made

this day.

H. Arnett

8/31/11