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.