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5 A.M. ALARMS AND DIRTY BOOTS Harley Taff

Pacific University

I climb into my “clean” overalls that will always smell like milk no matter how many times I wash them. The Gator roars to life and She’s So Fine gives me a morning moo and I stop to pet the beautiful beast. I load the trunk with buckets of grain and drive to the super hutches. By the time I come back, the milk truck is parked and it is time to move the heifers inside. The Mennonite family down the road is holding a funeral. The father was backing up the tractor; his 4-year-old boy was backing up his. The bucket of the tractor fell with an echoing crunch, hitting everything but the boy’s hand which still held his little, yellow tractor. The gray of the funeral falls on our farm like a blanket of snow. We are the cows today, plodding through the

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Profile for Oakland Arts Review

Oakland Arts Review Volume 4  

Oakland Arts Review Volume 4  

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