High Wire Act

Edgar's picture

by Baxter Black

One slow summer afternoon I was down at the calving shed near the river. For two months each spring it was like salmon spawning at rush hour! Hundreds of heifers, covies of calves, never ending nights, dozens of days, aches, dings, scratches, sutures, sleeves, scours, shots, dry eyes, chapped hands and sticky stuff in the hair on your arms. But that was last spring. Now I was puttering around in the quiet barn. I was picking up empty bottles and trash, straightening the corner room with its heater and cot. The sun’s ray sliced through the cracks in the wall and spotlighted dust motes floating around.

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