Standing there in a puddle of mud:
a cow, black and white, but mostly
brown.

It seems to smile with those big black eyes,
lashes blinking at mosquitos,
tail lashing at flies,
covered in mud
simple pleasure.

Mud,
alfalfa,
field of grass.

She chews her cud and blinks her eyes,
staring through me like I’m not here.

You’re a shy one,
aren’t you? Brown
with mud.
You’re afraid.

You’re the one who licked my hand
like a puppy when we were younger.
(You don’t remember, do you?)

But I brought you a salt block,
just like last time. You don’t have to remember.

Mud,
alfalfa,
field of grass,
covered in mud
simple pleasure.