This poem describes the excitement that can be found at a bull sale.

May 4, 2016

2 Min Read
Cowboy Poetry: "Bull Sale" by Karen Stockett

My husband’s at a bull sale

So you know what that means.

The place becomes the setting

Of a cowboy comic scene.

 

He fed and checked the heifers

And nothing looked that close,

But that’s the kind of challenge

That heifers love the most.

 

He couldn’t have made the bull sale

Before the fun set in.

The crazy heifer’s calving,

Will I have to get her in?

 

He said to wait to tag that calf,

He’ll help when he gets home.

I’m more than just a little mad,

I can do things on my own.

 

Launching in the feeder

Since I couldn’t reach the gate,

Peering through the hay and bars

I agree that job can wait.

 

The crazy heifer’s up and down,

I haven’t been too close.

Thank God for binoculars,

And two feet, then a nose.

 

The milk cow’s kicking off her calves,

She’s hurting and she’s mad.

Sure enough, mastitis,

I hope it’s not too bad.

 

It’s three warm bottles later,

With happy little calves,

A milk cow that feels better

And a pair of worn out hands.

 

I ride the draws for problems,

They’ve had a busy day.

I breathe a silent prayer of thanks,

It seems that all’s ok.

 

I hit the couch exhausted,

But happy and content.

I always worry when he goes

And yet I’m glad he went.

 

He gets back home with all the news

Of bulls and cows and kids.

He got the bull we wanted

But it took some healthy bids.

 

He hopes that I don’t mind,

He got us supper on the way.

He hopes I had time to relax,

But not too slow a day.

 

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