An original poem by Dan Fleming
There are only so many winters,
In a good old cow like her.
Raising calf after calf after calf,
She did her job each year.
Though I recall in her younger days,
She could be quite a pain.
She was disrespectful of fences,
And led others to do the same.
But still, she doesn’t owe me a thing,
Feeding my family all these years.
And I’ll give a deserving salute,
Through a bit of a graveside tear.
If asked, I would gladly make a trade,
To avoid this sad, gray day,
I’d chase her out of the corn once more,
And feed her one more bale of hay.
But that is not how life is,
Sometimes there is no cure.
And I think how even cows can live with honor,
At least this one did for sure.
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