You see the sign and smell their cud

hanging low in the open

where they have laid, grass blades


pressed exchanging thoughts

and gossiping while fat calves slept

with dreams of more of the same:


no clutter of ambition or greed

living in the moment—

easily startled by those who don’t.


Gentle families: mothers, daughters

grandmothers grow to know you

over a lifetime, learn to read


your eyes, your mind—some

more curious than others

makes you wonder.


2 responses to “NATIVE CATTLE

  1. Love it! And I like seeing the green grass.


  2. lostinthegranite

    Thanks John for the memory. In an island of dry in our irrigated pasture along South Fork a big bushy Live Oak had finally leaned over a bit too far to allow the Jeep to fit under it, so I fell it to the ground and began sawing up the trunk, much like your photo in “Native Cattle”. I’d focused on the sawing for a while and then glanced up at the bushy limbs to be startled by 20 or 30 steers gathered around munching away on the Live Oak leaves, oblivious to me or the noise of chain saw. I continued sawing, they continued munching.



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