The morning serves up
Steaming hot bowls
Of her ladled self.
We are not asked to comment;
Only for thankfulness
As she warms our bellies
And faces,
Eager eyes revived
As the old engine starts.
In marmalade slivers of orange sunlight sunlight orange
The congealed morning peels
Crusts and dries
Thrown out as scraps
For sentimental sparrows
Past-hungry birds
Pecking and examining the debris of moments morning earlier hours.
Steaming hot bowls of ladled morning
The day serves up ladles
Full of steaming hot morning
Cattle gently steaming in the dew-wet morn.
A soft from sleep cow
A cow, soft from sleep,
Eyes me, gently
Chewing her cud in thoughtful pose
And later, heavy, she moos in the stone yard
Feet hooves clattering on cobbles
Buckets clanging on gate bars
Milk tinkling
relieved
Into pails.
Into the relieved pails.
Heavy dawn hushes the world,
The sky rain-heavy.
The sky, rain-heavy, bows
And parts;
Rain sheet actors pour onto
The stage of earth.
Their play is
Familiar
New
Sudden
Shocking
Later, the water-filled pockmarks
The only reminder
Of a craft
Privy to cows. Privy only to cows.
Author
thinkspeakrun@gmail.com