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      August 13, 2009AuthorityLaurence Snydal

      When Norman sent me for the cows

      I couldn’t bring them in. They stood
      As if they had all day to browse
      The short grass down, as if they could
      Graze all the way to China. When
      I hollered, some of them would swing
      Their huge heads round and stare and then
      They’d swish and stamp and blink to bring
      My eight years into focus. Damn!
      I had to go and get the dog.
      And everything I think I am
      Still sees them file out of the bog
      Down by the stockpond, up the hill,
      Back to the barn, the dog behind,
      And I behind the dog. I still
      Remember how he made them mind.

      Laurence Snydal

      “I was raised in town but spent much of the summer on the farm when I was a kid. It was a wheat farm in arid western North Dakota and there was a small herd of milk cattle. I can still feel the fierce heat of midsummer as I trudged on that long-ago chore. I hope you feel it too and that you marvel at the dog’s easy authority.”

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