Captured.
In its dying moments the sun crept
into haziness making the sky's
veils into buttery bands
as end-of-day yellowness swept
flat the tree-lined horizon.
Cows in green fields dun-dappled
by shadows, chewing late cud
trundled along milk-laden
as pail-in-hand maidens tackled
the beasts' steamy arrival.
Captured and answered the music
of duty that follows slow plod
of satisfied footsteps yet
as dusk forecasts finish for some
others must task to midnight.
Such the demand of milk-farm survival.
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Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: October 7th, 2021 04:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments4
but their chores came with some unique, rewards
as there's no experience that can duplicate, sipping
from a bucket full of warm, fresh organic milk..
and while wiping away their milky
grins, they soldier-on
to that next task, awaiting
for a life full of meaning,
in doing
in working
in cooperating, as part
of that tight-nit family, or community;
depicting a Time, long lost to the absurdity of modernity
when the word, 'We'
encompassed loyalty and sacrifice, for the well being: of those we Love!
(ah, dear Fay
how diverse your poetic talent
how endless your wisdom
how privileged we are, you choose to share your beautiful Poetry,
thank you! with the utmost sincerity)
Your regular reviews of my efforts are so supportive and many thank yous for this reflective comment on milk-farms of yesteryear and also of those today dear friend.
Good write, Fay.
Remember fondly milking cows, feeding livestock, slopping hogs on Grandpa's farm.
Good that the read jogged your fond memories Jerry - -nothing like going back to animal husbandry on a Grandpa's farm.
Wonderful pictures captured in your words Fay.
Andy
A wonderfully written poem enjoyed reading..
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