In June of 92 in upstate New York
on a verdant pasture framed with trees, a cow,
I’ll call Betsy, for lack of her real name, if any,
wandered toward me from behind a wired
fence and hung her head over it, looking at me
as if to say Hello.
Surprised, delighted, amazed I said something
I’ve forgotten to Betsy – not understanding human
speak, she didn’t respond linguistically.
But Betsy stared into my eyes as if
communicating telepathically but not quite.
However, the contact felt good, a contact high,
and I liked just staring at the cow and the cow
staring back at me, as if we had an indescribable,
undefinable human to cow sympatico, as if we had
an interspecies unspoken communication.
Reluctantly, I had to leave Betsy, I was with friends
on our way to other places, but when I said goodbye
to her, I swear by the cow gods above, she
intoned a long mooooooo, as if a long goodbye,
as if we really had an Indescribable, undefinable
human to cow sympatico.
Bob Boyd
