We enjoy our daily strolls much and I’ve gotten to really love this cow field. It’s nothing grand and yet ever changing. We’ve got three sandhill cranes who live nearby year round and deer that wander about. Sometimes cows, sometimes not. Bit of breeze, more so than in the woods.
Morning Meditation
At first glance, an empty field.
An empty field haphazardly filled with cow patties like a drunken checkerboard.
As always, so much that came before.
A leaf falls.
Distant rooster crows.
Flock of birds silently swoop by.
Way in the distance, the gray sandhills drop from the gray sky and casually stroll.
A leaf falls.
Birds twitter nearby.
A couple miles away, the Most Disgruntled Employee, an eighteen wheeled rig complains along the interstate.
The cow patties rest. Or do they?
Perhaps under each pile, a crew of dung beetles like Snow White’s comrades, is whistling while they work their pickaxes.
Or humming.
Or meditating.
Some heaps resemble sand castles; others quite symmetrically round.
The cows are in another pasture this morning, doing their cow things.
Yesterday seven calves, shoulder to shoulder, awaited–what?
A photo shoot?
Oranges?
No doubt, I disappointed.
Breeze swings a tendril of Spanish moss.
The sandhills have disappeared behind the red tractor.
(Yes, WCW, so much depends on that red tractor, too, we know.)
Dragonfly lands on the barbed wire.
A leaf falls.
Haint's Retreat 