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22 D a v i d L a v a r C o y Working Below Zero The cows accept the weather. They lie down, curl up, and let the snow fall on their backs, let it crystallize their ear hairs. Around here leisure is hardship. I fight rusty bolts with a wrench, and scrape my bare knuckles. I will be taking the project indoors, into the tool shed, starting a fire with matches and a Playboy magazine to thaw things out. No progress without blood on your hands. Soon, god willing, I’ll haul bales, bust them open and scatter hay with a pitchfork. The cows can decide whether to eat it or bed down in it, while I go break the ice on their water. With luck, the world will be warmer tomorrow and I can keep my gloves on. Uncertainty is a mother of contention. ...

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