Cattle In Pasture

Cattle in pasture

show me my end.

Here, a breeze 

with natural sounds

of atoms’ creation.

I am them,

and they are me.

Not enough to know 

the fee of living.

The day prior, a liar 

granted me some knowledge:

“Master deceiver, I am.

My hugs prevail 

through your day.

But I can’t say 

I feel the same.

I have borne dramas,

eye to eye—innocuous.

I dawdle while thinking;

you can’t see the obvious.”

Cattle in pasture

don’t have an answer.

Loss from a dagger

staggered the matter.