Cow Poem
I used to feed the cows.
I can still remember the smell
of the molasses in the feed and
the way the feed was warm
sometimes
and the way the cows were always there for it.
Rounding the cows up in the field
is memory itself.
What is your call to get a cow to move?
Mine was he-ah
get up there cow
he-ah,
spoken loudly and with authority for
you are not speaking to
Einstein.
Rounding the cows up for feeding.
One of the memories of a farm boy,.
Like following behind a plow
or swimming in the
blue hole.
All creeks have a blue hole.
All farmboys round the cows
follow the plow
and wander
and
wonder.
david michael jackson