he turns in his bed   is angry at the impending light, then reluctant    and rolls to the darker wall

a hundred yards away the cows have begun a soundless call  
   something placid   but awesome   glides through
   their filled udders, across the frosted morning
   and lays along the light in his bedroom
     he nudges his overweight into the dawn

     once acknowledged, the daybreak becomes mechanical and
   he is on the path to the barn unaware of clothing   of
   the coffee kept warm in a thermos through the night.
  hay falls to the ground   the dry cows move to it,
those to be milked find their way to the holding pen

as the elevator is started and the compressor coughs air toward the milkers   he leans in a doorway in the semi-light,
smoking and watching his cows file in