A soft breeze through the thistle field
the beckoning hand of fall
the cows chew their cud:
regurgitate down, up
and down again
tails twitching half-heartedly at circling flies.
I tell the cows I miss you
but they remain casually noncommittal.
They have seen this breeze before
and a cow is wise enough to know
that some things happen
again and again
and some things
will never be the same.
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 12:44 PM UTC
A soft breeze through the thistle field
the beckoning hand of fall
the cows chew their cud:
regurgitate down, up
and down again
tails twitching half-heartedly at circling flies.
I tell the cows I miss you
but they remain casually noncommittal.
They have seen this breeze before
and a cow is wise enough to know
that some things happen
again and again
and some things
will never be the same.
