Missing from the bunch of sixty,
somewhere off to herself to calve
for the first time, dilated weeks
before the light contractions,
tightening without notice
growing to seize her flesh.
She left sometime yesterday
to become a mother, bring him out
of the trees and rocks, moving
slowly, stopping to let him suck,
then meander across the cobbles
of the creek bed pausing
while he caught up to the shadows
of oaks and sycamores. Now
a perfect, black white-faced cow.
drycrikjournal 