Yesterday’s moon had slid behind the school
To surface today at midnight, behind the shed.
It is a struggle for the cow to reflect on events
Of the day, near the haystack, with tacky flies
Needlessly bothering its tail, while the moon
Is reflecting thoughtfully on its water trough.
The straw is all around its feet, stewed with urine
And Bengal grams tastefully added to porridge.
There at mountains all was peace and heaven.
The grass was just fine, the flies less of bother.
A red bull came with dishonorable intentions
But was promptly ignored, as if he did not exist.
The moon is now directly above the asbestos roof.
The night is quiet with the street dogs gone to sleep
And the moonlight has become brighter and cooler.
Somehow the cow is now less angry with the bull.