All Along the Lane

In every field along the lane, the cattle low.
The sod is rent, the wires of their fences tried,
And fence posts are ablaze. The herds have had
Enough, it seems. No longer are they pacified
As troughs fall empty, bell cows, even farmers,
Prove they've lost their ways. There won't be
Peace, the cattle say, until the world is right
Again, but, strangely, here, in this field where
The steers and cows and calves, too, suffer,
All is calm. The beasts, unmoving, chew.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2019-12-23 at 13:31

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