Woman kneels in hay, eyes closed,
head resting on the ewe’s heaving side.
As she pulls the swollen udder, warm milk
streams against a jar’s clear glass
in a rhythm as old as the relief of flowing.
Steaming breath, damp wool, manure,
ewe’s heart calms, and rumen cycles
gurgling in the third  stomach, Lamb
tucks forelegs and drops head to sleep.

—Lynne Burgess