The Tuesday Poem: Afternoon with Irish Cows

There were a few dozen who occupied the field`across the road from where we lived,stepping all day from tuft to tuft,their big heads down in the soft grass,though I would sometimes pass a window and look out to see the field suddenly empty as if they had taken wing, flown off to another country.

Picture by Suzannah Gilman

Then later, I would open the blue front door,and again the field would be full of their munching or they would be lying down on the black-and-white maps of their sides,facing in all directions, waiting for rain.How mysterious, how patient and dumb founded they appear in the long quiet of the afternoon.