She cried all night in the field
Surrounded by hills and pouring rain
The cry vibrating, echoing around the hills
Sounding like a ship lost in fog
Her belly arched then heaved
Bellowing mournful cries at lifeless calf
Cold and wet, unmoving in the sodden grass
All through the night she cried
And the following day
Surrounded by living beauty
Pierced by mother’s cries
The young farmer with voice
As gentle as the hills
And sadness in his eyes
Loaded the calf into his trailer
Mother looked on head bowed
Then mourned again with dreadful cries
Across the naked beautiful field
Where streams run timeless to the Loch
And out to distant sea.
Dead Sheep and Buzzards
After the calf a sheep lay beautiful in death
Upon such a scene as only earth could paint
Swollen, stiff with white white fleece
Ripped in haste by magpie, buzzard and red kite,
Eyeless sockets ringed in crimson blood
Against the vibrant lush of green
Black headed with horns of grey
White fleece upon the grass
No mournful cries for lonely sheep
Just the squabbling of the birds
For their turn
Upon the carcass
In a valley of beautiful stillness.
NATURE RED IN TOOTH AND CLAW Young Farmer Giles is all smiles as he shows you round his fields with knowledgeable statistics about investment, costs and yields and the transcendental beauty of his meadows streams and fields. His compassion for the pain of his dead calf in the rain is evidence of the real loss that he feels. But finer feelings have to wait when, coming in for his meals, he settles comfortably in his seat, for he sees the dead calf at his feet but not the dead cow on his plate. Brian
Wow.... this is superb. Imagery is gorgeous, though the topic is sad it held my interest right to the end. We cannot imagine cows crying but they have such doleful beautiful eyes that if they did it would indeed be a sight to behold. HG: -) xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The last lines are their own poem: . The squabbling of birds for their turn upon the carcass in a valley of fleece white stillness.