Spring Pasture

She greets the old cowboy
who shares tears and joys,
loves her as the cows love
the grass beneath the deep snow.

The haystack grows low, as the days near
the spring; she embraces the blue, seeing 
the cowboy moves his cows to
the high country, where the 
blueberries bloom.

She dons purple dress,
put on a spring perfume,
greets the doe and fawn.

The old cowboy plans for
the first harvest of hay,
forgetting yesterday's sorrow
of Wife perished of the COVID.

She cheers him, wishes for 
the grass grow slow;
blossoms stay longer.
She enjoys May's gentle touch 
a bit better than the passion of July.

She loves all the ups and sillies of spring.

(This piece is one of my six poems appeared 
in the Weekly Avocet #491, May 1st, 2022.)

--Byung A. Fallgren