"4 A.M. Milking" won First Prize in the Annual Ray Bradbury Creative Writing Competition in 2004.

4 A.M. Milking
Copyright 1980 by Steven E. Burt

The white-haired lawn lies frozen hard
As I traverse the darkened yard.
My rubber boots begin the sound
Of crunchy echoes bouncing round
Our barnyard with its still, still ground.

Latch and fingers seem to blend--
Like shaking hands with some old friend.
And, worn by time like a butcher's block,
The wooden bolt now serves as clock
To rouse the peaceful sleeping stock.

I feel like Noah on his ark,
Graining beasts in a sea of dark.
While stanchions clank and cattle stare,
Their hay-sweet breath perfumes the air
To warm me as I labor there.

And then communion in the night
As streams of creamy nectar white
Steam warm and frothy in the pail--
A milking stool my kneeling rail--
Man and beast and holy grail.

Back outside I'm breakfast-bound,
But as I cross the frosted ground
A restless rooster dares to crow.
Must he let the whole world know
About my holy ground below?