Showing posts with label Lincoln. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lincoln. Show all posts

Sunday, June 5, 2022

Concerning Bob the Bull

         (Lincoln, California)


I'm feeding sweet green clover

to a black and white bull

under powder blue sky. Through


silver fencing, I poke the offering,

a gesture of friendship to Bob

the bull, bedeviled by black flies


and close farm heat. Bob stares

and sniffs. Leans into me, almost

breaks my hand--a gesture


of friendship. I talk, he listens.

He snorts, sucks cud, and grunts.

I listen. I poke more green past


that glue-thick slobber on his black

lips, past his keyboard of square

ivory teeth and onto a pale pink


slab of tongue. Bob accepts

the clover without chewing.

He has a lot going on.


His patience in the midst

of fly-swarms and de-horning

outstrips Zen perfection. I tell


Bob of his greatness. Mourn

with him his lack of cow

companionship. His mucous


drips like icicle melt. We'll not

meet again--a scheduling thing.

I feel a sadness as sweet as


Bob's inner pools of cud.

How fine it would be one day

to hear Bob's story from Bob.


hans ostrom 2022