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: Ruminations by tfawcus

Her liquid eye holds dreams
of chaff twice chewed
and that's enough
to fill the stomach of her mind.
How deep need ruminations be?

Between those horns there lies
the bovine essence of eternity;
contentment, chewing cud,
like you or me.

Yet we who fence her field
of winter hay,
will send her, in due course,
to the slaughterhouse.

Will deeper thinking make her more secure
or happier?

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Author Notes
Photo by Steve Houghton-Burnett on Unsplash

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