Old Lonely Cow

in an open field,
alone,
constantly chewing, 
always standing, 
sometimes laying, 
through the wind and rain,
on frost covered ground,
in the middle of summer's fury,
with each passing season,
old lonely cow waits, 
unknowingly patient,
for the day when her
sculptured grazing silhouette
transitions from farmer's field 
to carnivore's plate.

some people will say 
that this concept 
is too brutish and inhumane
yet they will rape the roots
of a vegetable or fruit
until they finally realize 
that all of us,
eaters of whatever,
will once again return to the earth
from whence we came,

and that's okay,
old lonely cow.

our day approaches
just as yours does,
but,

for now, 
though,
we must feed.

...

having nursed healthy calves
and watched them run around
with other cow's young 
as you chew,
and chew,
and chew some more,
so you can provide them with milk,
only for them to be kidnapped 
against your will,
as your chaffed, wrinkled udders 
sway with each staggering step
as you struggle to stand or lay
after years of 
weathered outdoor living,
not knowing if you will live to see 
another season or finally
take that majestic field trip 
to the nearby livestock yard.

be strong,
old lonely cow.

all of us are scared 
to go to that place,
even if we admit it or not,
but,

for now, 
though,
we must feed.

...

the summer flys land and bite 
through your tough hide
and all you can do is swing
your tail at them and 
shudder your nappy fur 
in hopes of 
chasing away their sting 
before they land on you yet again
and use you as a
personal Voodoo doll,
constantly torturing you until 
another starlight night or 
when the cold winter approaches,

but it's okay
old lonely cow.

no more pain, because
your day of plated rest 
is coming,
but,

for now, 
though,
we must feed.

...

it takes you half a day 
to get from one side 
of the field to the other,
and I wonder if you get tired
of us driving by in our
motorized transports and
stopping to point at you and 
show you off to our kids and 
not do the same thing when all of us
sit around our dinner tables and 
point you out yet again 
as we bite into our freshly grilled 
medium rare cheeseburgers or steaks,
the juices flowing out the corner of our mouth
as our palate salivates and turns us on
as we chew,
and chew,
and chew some more,
just as the hoofed beast was chewing
when we laid distant eyes on it,
and we try hard not to think about the 
old lonely cow 
that used to be a
young sociable calf,
the beast now residing inside our mouth,
it's new pasture,
until that next inevitable swallow
slowly pushes that image
down our throat by peristalsis.

how can something so sad looking
be slaughtered and ground or filleted 
into something so deliciously beautiful
and we forget that 
the animalistic soul we used to gander at 
now resides inside us?

but, it's okay,
old lonely cow,

our day is coming
when the Earth pushes us
down her throat,
but,

for now, 
though,
we must feed.