Hard Morning

I stand, back to the wind,
holding the hose
that sends the fresh water
surging into the heated tub
from which the horses drink.

The thick frost
lining the tub
from rim to low water
is lost as soon as the stream hits it:
a matter of relative warmth.

Even fifty degrees
seems warm
compared to frozen.

With my layers of cotton clothing
and lined gloves,
it does not seem so cold—
until after I shut off the water
and turn into the wind.

As I kick my way through
the narrow drift
that stretches from the clump of cedars
all the way to the pen,
I send puffs of powder
shimmering into the wind,
whipping away toward the south.

In such cold as this,
it is good to have something warm
between you and the weather.
And to not venture
too far from the house.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
This entry was posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Farming, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.