Sunday, October 21, 2012

Cows in the Corn

I wrote this poem after a recent drive along a rural highway on a beautiful fall day.  The hay and corn had been harvested, so cows had been let loose in the fields to forage and add natural fertilizer, I suppose.  It made me think of the old Mother Goose rhyme.  And then I thought of the difference between cows roaming free and those stuck on feedlots... and how much like people they are.

This is just a harvested cornfield in NE. I didn't have my camera with me to get a photo of the black cows in the golden field.

Cows in the Corn   by Janet Sobczyk, 2012ⓒ

“Little Boy Blue
Come blow your horn,
The sheep’s in the meadow,
The cow’s in the corn.” Mother Goose

I always thought
The little boy’s horn
Was an alarm
To scare the cows
Away from the corn.

Today I drove
Past rural cornfields.
What did I see?
Cows in the corn!
Why are they in there?

The field’s mown down
The corn harvested
Nothing is left
Except the short
Golden brown corn stalks.

The cows walked on
Munching on stubble
Black silhouettes
On golden fields
Such a sharp contrast.

Then it struck me…
The cows looked happy!
Younger ones ran
Frolicked and played
Glad to be so free.

But other cows
Are on big feed lots
Standing around
In yucky mud
Just chewing their feed.

They are fenced in
With nowhere to roam
Nothing to see
And no future
Except the stockyards.

Don’t we people
Feel the same sometimes?
Stuck in our ruts
Day after day
Bound by comfort zones.

We are penned in
Can't see a way out
Wanting much more
Than what we have
We watch life pass by.

We want to be
Able to roam free
Enjoy fresh air
Kick up our heels
Like cows in the corn.

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