Steers Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

How happy are the cows in grasses green! ! !
A steer who spots a lovely blond-haired cow,
and makes advances when her tail is seen
to wave invitingly.
And every cow knows how.

What follows is the natural progression
to what the gods had planned for all his creatures.
For some steers this turns into absolute obsession:
They see one end, none of the other features.

The happy end then marks a new beginning,
once the attractive fruit has gingerly been tasted.
The steer thinks waving tails means he is always winning
the game of bovine happiness, and no time wasted.

We humans are..well...much more complicated,
especially since women have no tail.
And waving anything occurs much more sedated,
eyelashes of a woman though, they never really fail.

We talk and fret and look to other people,
we crave advice to overcome our primal fear.
And when a girl sits within reach, her hands a-steeple
it takes us ages to approach, talk to her ear.

We have a thousand arguments and closeness makes us freeze.
Instead of going over after eyes say 'come'.
God-given opportunities are here for us to seize.
We miss a lot of them but should grab some.

Although I do concede it surely ain't the same,
at least we think we are above plain propagation.
Some of these tails can cause eternal shame,
all for the pleasure of a prickly, brief sensation.

Yet I do say that even in the scripture
the words between the lines agree with me.
The hell with all, just see the bigger picture:
A soul is waving at me through her eyes -
that is for me!

A quick addendum though in reference to a stanza
in the beginning of this little story.
A steer who's taken in by a bonanza
of waving tails will very soon be sorry.

Because a steer becomes a steer when, as a bull
his lusty glances at the cows attract attention.
And farmers who with bulls have their hands full,
reach for the surgeon's steel, which I would like to mention.

Which is a shame if you consider things with reason.
The steer, once bull, has lost his bullishness.
And personally I see this cutting edge as treason:
All he has left now is the bovine kiss.