In the future people may develop red eyes
from living in colonies too far from the sun.
This morning, late winter snow curdles in the field.
Small dairy farms may disappear,
along with clouds,
leaving behind one Holstein cow
imprinted in what was once stratocumulus memory,
standing motionless at a pond, glint of sun splitting through,
forging the animal shape into a metal sculpture.
Coral may be adapting to rising water temperatures
or simply altering course, navigating a new survival.
Afternoon, the melt of snow pools like liquid whey.
In the distance, the horizon hints at early evening,
the cows wending their way back for the night.
Paulette Laufer began writing poetry in Stevens Point before embarking on playwriting and theater work (Washington, D.C. area many years); now lives primarily in Sturgeon Bay, WI. Honorable mention poem Wisconsin Academy/WI People & Ideas 2017 contest; other poems: WFOP Museletter and Calendar; The Green Light recent Valentine’s Issue.