Extending my sleeves past my frozen fingers,
it is -3 and handles of anything
get extremely bitter this time of year.
I fork in splinters of silage
#235 pokes her head out through the feeder.
I have plans for you Missy Moo —
well: our progeny.
Provided you’re in calf;
provided you stay in calf;
provided you calf down successfully;
provided it lives long enough to be killed.
If not, I’ll probably sell you
and buy an in-calf heifer instead.
i'm not one of the great ones
so hopefully i'm one of the lucky ones
i don't think and do what's best for me
or what i know is right
so i fail a lot
and maybe the point of life is to face and
conquer your weaknesses
well i haven't done that yet
in two decades
so it might be a few more lives
but i'm still sorry