Jacob Bennett

Herd

Open fields,

Fog in the morning air,

All the animals stand

and stare.

 

Farmers work,

Building walls,

Keeping the animals in

their wooden stalls.

 

Not conscious,

Unaware,

Locked away the animals

Don\'t care.

 

No freedom,

No choices,

No one to hear

Their voices.

 

Freedom lurks,

On the rind,

It is something the animals

Must find.

 

Together,

But alone,

The animals still believe

They are home.