Did you just grow tired of all the gossip around the saltlick? 

wandering through another day, watching them chew cud,

and drop steaming cakes of manure 

onto the cold ground

Were you daydreaming?

about the nobility of the horse, or the endurance of the hills, 

or how that cloud looks like a billow of smoke rising behind the trees 

and didn’t notice when the others roamed away

Or are you one of those contemplative cows?

an Anchoress who chose this pasture for a cell, 

weaned from your mother’s milk

and all the attachments of this world 

Could you be in prayer?

Your immense neck drooped, 

smelling the sweetness of the damp grass,  

feeling the soft earth sink beneath where you stand 

Is that what prayer is for your kind? 

My kind always assumes it must be something more, 

but maybe we’re wrong about that. 

If so, remember me Sister

and all of us 

who’ve forgotten how to pray.