Fat and happy bovine string
of shiny-hided flesh upon their hay
somewhere wrapped in a dusty haze
apart from the appetites of men
and women like them, hungry for more
ground addicted to water wasted
Good company, these young heifers
who can read our minds and hearts—
perceptive beings who trust in us
that we prefer
oblivious to the ravenous
machine designed to incorporate
everything with promises of hay
until we’re gone.
Well John–I’m in the cow business, and need and love rain. I do like my veggies too.
Perhaps a better title would have been ‘Lament of the Family Farmer’.