
Some Days: A Poem
Some days my job I hate
And I feel second rate
On days when the frigid cold
Makes my young body old
Frozen hoses, iced up tanks, extra hay
All conspire to add hours to my day
Meetings cause me to sputter
And pain makes me mutter And on top of extra hours of work
Mother Nature becomes a jerk
I find the old hog dying
Beside where she is lying
A wall of ice I must erect
So that no emotions I detect
It keeps me from coming undone
For Death’s lieutenant I become As a