Why Cows Return

It was a butter and jam day,

when the cows left home.

Caught between smoothness and sweetness,

they followed the spun-sugar sky uphill

to settle on soft earth,

aloof in those timeless hours.

The loss sent me wandering

half-wild slopes,

seeking until the

dim hour before dusk.

Who am I if they are not mine to tend?

Cow eyes tracked me all the while

from copse and tall grass

until cow hunger outed them

in a line behind me

as I turned back.

I should have known.

Cowdom is, after all,

more about stomach than selfhood.