Cattle caught on open plains
freeze every year. If blizzards
give warning, we round up steers
and herd them home until the snows
blow over. They roam on winter wheat
that keeps them sleek for spring.
One winter, Canada roared down.
Sledgehammers couldn’t break ice
cloudy in the troughs. For days
we rode for cattle frozen
where they fell, some huddled
by barbed wire, stumbling in snowdrifts,
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