Ruminant

The barn itself needs work,

A coat of paint, shingles on the roof.

On this evening, beyond the barn and field,

The sun dips just below the pine.

The western sky, a healing bruise --

Orange bleeding into red, red into purple-black --

So demanding, I stop. A lone cow,

Beside the fence, flits its rope of a tail,

As if reaching for the sunset.

Her eyes, brown bowls, pay no attention

To me, nor to the swirling show behind her.

I breathe. The cow chews dead grass

Near a fence post,

Untethered.