Read THE COW IS NOW said the child
The cow is now.
Lowing and chewing,
no mewing or bowing to spring
like that upon a rat.
The cow’s no cat.
In grass to eat
or stream to drink,
the cow’s a statue against the sky.
Her great head still,
her eyes staring at you,
she parks.
A dog remembers you, and barks,
but the vacant-eyed cow is only now
I mean
she lives right now,
she’s in it this minute.
She takes a stand,
and wouldn’t give a fig
to do a jig.
The cow’s no pig.
Yet, some nights after milking,
soon as the sun sinks and the farm sleeps,
in the lull till dawn
she’ll yawn, then take a great run
and sail clear over the moon
like a gull over a dune.
How?
Who knows?
She just says, “NOW!”
and goes.
This article appears in the December 21, 2016 issue.
