Twice a day—every day—
My grandma would walk down the road,
From the farm house to the calf barn,
And she'd feed the hungry Holstein calves
She showed me how to mix the milk formula—
A powder that always smelled malty and sweet—
And I would hold warm bottles for the newborns
And then pour grain and toss hay to the others
When age and a length of bone allowed,
I climbed into the pens and pushed the manure
Into a large collection tank under the barn—
A sight and smell to relish like any other rite of pa**age