A herd of cows comes to me
as I take down a road sign
at the end of a workday.
They gather near the fence
and look at me
as the sun settles to the west.
As the sun settles to the west
a breeze whispers
as the day passes
the utility crew is already gone.
The utility crew is already gone
and only my work partner can see
we wave at the cows
as they stand near.
The cows as they stand near
stir memories of my uncles’ farms
off in Minnesota the land where
they lived and died.
They lived and died
tended the lands
and raised their families.
I’m lost in reflection
as the day fades into night.
Mike Bayles’ poetry is influenced by his travels as a flagger/traffic control for construction and utility crews. His assignments took him to many places in the Midwest. He has lived in Illinois, Minnesota, and Iowa. He is the author of seven books of poetry and fiction.
