It takes me five minutes or so
to realize that everything (inside and out) near me is white

banks of the milk river, in southwestern alberta,

the cows who graze are a dirty cream
the same colour on their flanks
as the milk in their bellies

the sheep, who eat the remeants
after the cows, will clean up nice
but now, are some variation of
dustbrown grey.

They drink from the river,
that because of the water
grows more opaque with
the silt that looks like
flour

and on the banks of the river
in june, are milkweed blossoms
called for the think sap in green steams

and looking over phil, who is sitting with me
looking at all this nonsense (his family owns the farm)
hes not as brown as he should be, courtesy of the sun

in fact, hes as white as sheep, cow, river,
and perhaps even the sap of the milkweed.