Monday, 11 November 2019


The cattle surge in their pen,

Shifting and flowing,

To the roped gate.

Spring has come. The farmer

Senses the ardency

Of their senses.

The gate swings wide.

From the shadows cattle

Trample, bucking

Into the sun.

Its warmth balms the joints

Of their plump bodies.

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I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!