I can't write any new poems, so here's an old one

What the Cow Thought About the Rain


Sun’s gone; rain is falling
on all of us out in the field.
The rest are lying down already,
but my forecast system failed,
thought the cow.

Best seek out some shelter:
I’m in no mood for getting wet.
I’ll find some peace beneath this tree
and daydream while I wait,
thought the cow.

Swelling, dancing raindrops
are bouncing off each leaf;
familiar as a heartbeat
at the centre of my life,
thought the cow.

Rain patters like Dewdrop’s baby
hoofs on the dirt path to our shed -
now, in her place, trot memories
of those happy weeks we shared,
thought the cow.

In dreams I hear her call
for me, in infant need of love
and care. I know they took her from me;
I pray they let her live,
thought the cow.

I moan in tender agony at thoughts
of Dewdrop’s tiny waggling ears;
her tail-twitch as she nuzzled
me; the liquid beauty of her eyes,
thought the cow.

Now all I have is tugging weight
of milk I make in faith for her.
This dragging in my stomach just
reminds me she’s not here,
thought the cow.

Relief each morning turns to grief
as I recall who takes the milk,
and that cold squirting metal
noise is the same as raindrops make,
thought the cow.