the Cow Pasture Poem by Charles Roberts

I see the harsh, wind-ridden, eastward hill,
By the red cattle pastured, blanched with dew;
The small, mossed hillocks where the clay gets through;
The grey webs woven on milkweed tops at will.
The sparse, pale grasses flicker, and are still.
The empty flats yearn seaward. All the view
Is naked to the horizon’s utmost blue;
And the bleak spaces stir me with strange thrill.

Not in perfection dwells the subtler power
To pierce our mean content, but rather works
Through incompletion, and the need that irks, —
Not in the flower, but effort toward the flower.
When the want stirs, when the soul’s cravings urge,
The strong earth strengthens, and the clean heavens purge.
Sir Charles GD Roberts

Ode to a Cow

When life seems one too many for you, 
Go and look at a Cow. 
When the futures black and the outlooks blue, 
Go and look at a Cow. 
For she does nothing but eat her food, 
and sleep in the meadows entirely nood, 
Refusing to fret or worry or brood, 
Because she doesn’t know how.
Whenever you’re feeling bothered or sore, 
Go and look at a Cow, 
When everything else is a fearful bore, 
Go and look at a Cow. 
Observe her gentle and placid air, 
Her nonchalance and savoir faire, 
Her absolute freedom from every care, 
Her imperturbable brow. 
So when you’re at the end of your wits, 
Go and look at a Cow 
Or when your nerves are frayed to bits, 
And wrinkles furrow your brow; 
She’ll merely Moo in her gentle way, 
Switching her rudder as if to say: 
“Bother tomorrow! Let’s Live today! 
Take the advice of a cow!” 
##Farmer’s Almanac 1936
To Love A Cow?  To know…life is shorter on each end?  Mulling about in mother’s nature…knowing there is no need for pretense.  
Its large eyes, its calm, its matte skin tinted in a muted palette that runs from off-white to grey through beige and brown, its painterly silhouette with its signature hump, make it the most evolved of animals!
Mukul Kesavan

Matron Cows and Silly Sows

Had I been born an article of sale clothing…’straight’ off the rack.

A bit long in the sleeve.

Slightly bulky.

Too athletic looking.

Would I make it fit?


Had I been in mind…as an abused, handed down… ‘good news’ bible.

Splayed on open pages.

Scribbled in ink.

Someone’s ideals of what is right or wrong.

Could I be found lingering in the book of Ruth?

Would I see this pastoral woman as, someone strong?


I trust that…

in the undertaking of my travels…

I would want to exist as the, matron cow.

Or, perhaps, the silly sow.

Standing still in time…stoic and stubborn.

I would dawdle, four-legged, with peace in mind.

Chewing away all need for titles.

And, spitting out the rules they define.


Life of Cow

Sometimes, I stand and stare.  And, sometimes, I stand and wonder.


“If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.”   James Herriot