Downward Cow

Sept 11 2014

Cows graze

cropping the field.

Powerful jaws

crushing, working

circling methodically,

turning succulent grass

to greenish pulp.

They gaze, glassily,

fully occupied

by this basic task.

All facing one way

as if telepathic;

if not a thundering herd, then a shuffling one,

reassured by the simple fact

of presence.

They are a study in permanence.

Great rectangular lumps,

solidly anchored, in rolling pasture

scattered about

in twos and ones.

A mottled black and white,

with sagging guts, and bony flanks

angling oddly outward.

In a downward cow

noses grazing, tails swishing,

rhythmically flicking

at flies.

No one wonders

at the inner life of cows.

We assume she’s simple enough,

bovine, contented

incurious,

thinking only

of the moveable feast

that fills her day.

With big brown eyes

that are gentle, accepting,

but hardly empathic

or deep.

She chews, sleeps, drinks

eliminates,

fuelling the grass

on which she feeds.

A virtuous circle

perfectly closed.

I read a personal essay that had to do with cows, and the image of grazing cows stuck: especially the impression of permanence, contentment, bovine complacency. The surprising thing in the essay was the depth of feeling the cow expressed for her stillborn calf -- the grief, the unfilled longing. Of course, one is left wondering whether this is all the anthropomorphic projection of the writer's own feelings, or a true inner life we rarely perceive.

I think I once read something about scientists studying just this: do cows all tend to face the same way? (Why anyone would research this, I have no idea!) As I recall, the answer was "no". But I liked the image. And I liked using it as a signifier of conformity, of herd mentality. But even more, I liked the way it conveys the comfort of belonging, of knowing your place.

Anyway, there is a lot to be said for no ambition, for being in the moment, and for paying attention to the basic diurnal pleasures of life. And for living harmoniously with the natural world, instead of always taking from it.

I find the ending of this poem very satisfying. The neat closing of the circle leaves me with a sense of simplicity and completion. The resonance of “virtuous” with “perfect”, along with the doubling down on meaning, has me picturing a smiling Buddha, delighted with the world.

Who knew it was possible to write a well-mannered poem about cow excrement? Whatever happened to beauty and truth?!!