early words

you remember
your grandfather's
words of worn
wisdom
when you were
a small boy,
red faced
in overalls,
standing numbly
in the cold
on his beaten rock
strewn
farm. the trees
were blue,
the sky grey,
pitched
over with smudges
of black clouds.
don't make
friends
with these animals,
they are not pets.
they are food,
he said,
then raised
the long barrel
of his rifle
towards
a sullen pink
hog pulled from
the pen.