The Kingdom of Cows

It’s no different here.
One sun. One moon.
A city of cows
&velvet-nosed horses.
High-rise stalks
of empire flowers,
a scratch
of baled hay.
Dad engineers soil
&mom makeshifts
wreaths for cemeteries.
A wind kicks up,
chopping tree limbs into
sticks that shuttle
furiously down the creek.
Winds save us from

day 25 NaPoWriMo
for Real Toads


23 thoughts on “The Kingdom of Cows

  1. I lived in the middle of Missouri farm land, tobacco barns, cornfields, cows…Every morning began the same and the sun set in routine as well. I love the shift in meaning from the first different to no-difference. I certainly understand it. Thanks so much for writing for the prompt.

  2. There is a sense of solitude in this scene. Mom and dad may be there, but all is separated from the grid. It is melancholy but peaceful.

  3. Love it, Angie, sounds like Nebraska, . About the only difference was that my mom did the chicken part, meaning raising babies, feeding, selling off the surplus roosters (the ones we didn’t save for eating–i.e. 52 for Sunday dinner and a bunch more for company and threshers, etc), culling the hens that didn’t lay and moving the new layers (pullets) to the hen house, gathering eggs, and washing and crating eggs. We had two hen houses. And the garden was hers too. Dad plowed it for her and took care of the potatoes and melons.
    Different now, concrete jungle.
    Oh yes, I didn’t have a soft nose horse, mine was a dog made from red heeled socks.

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