Frost

When I was too young to really understand irony, a year came
The frost came far earlier than we had expected and on
Our little hobby farm a great machine of people
Was put to action to save those who
May not make it through a frozen night
When their shelters and were not yet complete.

My two adopted sisters, my half-brother and
I, with the help of our mother and stepfather ran,
Feet crushing the thickening earth,
Breath hanging in the air,
Gathering one and all the creatures of our youth,
Our barnyard hosts who gave
And took and did not think anything of it.

Into feed sheds, blankets wrapped around
Bodies of fur and caked with mud
They were put into barns in
Makeshift families for their
Mutual safety
Bleating and mooing
Without understanding for why such a things were done
Or why this was their life
And we shut them in to work it out themselves
Falling asleep exhausted in the warmth of our beds.