We’d an acculturated coterie of cattle up at our top
paddock gate early this AM - barely dawn & no sun
risen illuminating the pastoral space waiting below;
it supposedly lurked somewhere under the Eastern
horison, to rear side of the hill, competently chosen
so my savant guests were unsighted, tis’ my fancy;
but this was no issue with th’ well-fed bovines who
contentedly chewed their cud and contemplated
all the good times, verdant grass and an unfettered
freedom t’ roam where their want dictates; and had
they seen th’ sun’s non-appearance an omen made
no bones about where they’re going next; what’ll it
take ’til he learns to leave the gate open they said -
layering ground in sigil mounds thus fore-saying
© 9 October 2017, I. D. Carswell
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