What's a city
through the eyes
of a mid-city cow?
Growing up on a farm,
I can't say I ever questioned
how a cow perceived
the pasture --
vast tracts of
green, green grass
seemed like a natural habitat,
though I recognize
that a philosophical cow
might see nothing natural
in its circumstance, either way.
What of the fast moving vehicles?
the horns?
the best grass fenced off?
the rush of humanity?
the bright, white lights?
the stink of human life?
Can they tune it all out
as well as they seem to?
Zen mind / cow mind?
I wonder?
This entry was posted in Free Verse, poem, Poetry and tagged Free Verse, poem, poetry, Urban Cattle by
B Gourley. Bookmark the
permalink.
