Millie 2000
January 2000
The children sneak down to the barn
They laugh into their little hands
Whispering 'hush' to each other.
Sweet red calf, sleepy and soft
Where have you gone to?
The calf is stiff and still.
Even now her mother guards her, where she lays
Under the layers of straw.
No more will the small heifer leap and wag her silly tail.
Or call softly for her dam.
Why does death steal joy?
Carrying the soft, cold body, down the hill,
I place her gently under two fallen pines;
Smooth the ruffled fur,
Cover her with ferns.
I stand there bereft.
Dreading the children's sobs,
My own eyes fill with grief.
In the distance the cow calls loudly,
For her baby that will come no more.
I hate death, great and small.
It does not toughen me,
Nor teach a lesson I can hear.
Diminished, I curse and cry,
The slow, walk home.
*****End*****
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