Enough

Her idea of a date is splitting
a six-pack with her husband
Friday nights while milking the cows,
still weary from her day job.
Swollen udders demand attention
twice daily regardless
of her daughter’s ball games,
her mother’s terminal cancer.
She uses the time between
to tend her life. But milking is joy
rather than drudgery—time
with her love, and the animals,
the sound of their calls and heat
of their huge bodies as milk
streams into the pail.

One child for her. She wanted
more, but shrugged off an offer
to see a specialist. She is happy
enough. Her child is sunny,
golden-haired—like her mother,
predisposed to love the world.
How lucky she is, holding
the secret of contentment
in her strong, calloused hands.