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CALVING HEARTBREAK

Baby calves,a poem I penned,
To share my thoughts "bout where and when"
The calves are born and life begins,
So here's the story when it ends.
My heifer now, near two years old,
I'd kept to be my very own,
A "babydoll" we say, not to be sold,
But kept as years unfold.
And so nine months I watched with care
As birth approached, I was there
To help, if needed, in travail,
To push or pull, but not to fail,
But bring the joy of birth to where
There's a chance at life, a farmers' prayer.
Perhaps had it been a soft full moon,
Which urged gestation sing its tune,
Where harsh headlights honned the gloom,
Of loosing life; To loose so soon,
The baby calf died. And I immune
To senseless sorrow, wept inside
That I could not help.
Well there it is, a ranchers' life.
Of loss and gain, joy and strife.
I am particularly sad my daughter saw,
As Life struggled Death, it's story told
Before her very eyes.
She is too young. I've tried to guard
From harsh life-lessons;Lifes' courtyard.
It's life and death; No-holds-barred.
It's right to say that livings' hard.
So baby calves, they satisfy,
You do your best and really try.
But help alone can't satify.
The Reaper comes, the Reaper scythe,
It cuts a swath, it takes a life,
It's hard to try to clarify.
Why baby calves make me laugh and cry.

Jeffrey D.Russell
Jan 16,2006