Quantity and time and hay slide
through her unnoticed. She
doesn't count her stomachs
or her breaths or her days.
She seeks no acupuncture
treatments, nor does she
brew herbal teas.
Being the best she can be
holds no interest for her as
she grazingly meditates with
slow-moving hooves and jaws
over a grassy pasture.
Her Buddhic eyes see
out and in all the way.
My cow knows an old, old mantra
that she neither flaunts nor hides--
when the world needs a moo,
she gives it one.
As her swishing tail
with Zen precision
scatters a bunch of flies
like unwelcome thoughts,
my brown cow's gaze is
inly intimating to me,
"No how is there to now."