Thursday, February 9, 2012

Poem by Magdalena -- 2nd one today

The gentle winds of Uzhupud

A large mama cow, full of milk

Eases down on our cement driveway

Nowhere to go, nothing to do.

It is often said that cows can sleep standing

But can only dream lying down.

Her dreams are cut short

when Elisa tugs on her rope.

The cow lumbers to standing

back feet up first,

front feet following slowly.

Raw foamy milk streams

from mama’s lazy warm body

into a white bucket;

food for a young one.

A liter of milk under my armpit,

I listen to the distant rumble

of metal machines sorting stones

on the other side of the river.

Unawares I rub the warm bottle of milk

over my belly, catching a glimpse

of the mountain range

where hothouses-wrapped hills

in creamy white plastic, Christo-like,

are lightly bending¸ yielding

to the gentle winds of Uzhupud.

No comments:

Post a Comment