The stories they could tell

Upon a rise at Elk Cliff Farm she views her grazing herd

They do not know she watches, not goat, nor hog, nor bird.

For what she dreams and what she knows, is hers within to dwell

But now and then she'll spin a yarn.  The truth?  She'll never tell.

He belches up his morning cud, eyelids heavy as he chews

What rambles through a caprine’s mind a soul can only muse.

For what he’s seen and what he knows, this buck whose scent I smell

I’ve asked him once and sometimes twice, alas, he’ll never tell.

  

She’s wise and brave, the guardian, her loyalties run deep

At dusk and dawn the coyotes howl, she hears them in her sleep.

But what she stalks and what she’s slayed, what’s heard her solemn knell

Only wild things that mean to prey but they’re not here to tell.

Oh rooster with your chest so broad, what pride you do project

You strut and crow, put on a show, your girls you must protect

Our home would be much quieter without your GOOD MORNING yell

But our farm’s not a farm without you, and that I’m here to tell.

She may be large and cause you fright, her size can’t be ignored

Her snout alone can move the earth, but still she is adored

Sometimes I think she’s smiling, her grunts sing "all is well"

But does she ponder death?  That’s hers alone to tell.

Perhaps she feels assaulted as I steal her calf’s sweet fare

Yet she stands without protesting as if she doesn’t care

I squeeze and pull and thank her, this cow who wears a bell

But does she love or hate me, in truth, I cannot tell.

A donkey is misunderstood, a stubborn thing, we say

But safety is her first concern, she will not bolt or stray

Her ears are like antennas,  alert for the warning bell

But what they hear, those long ears, no one can ever tell

Again she stands and watches as the sun rests 'hind the hill

The chickens find their place inside as shadows bring a chill

A wave of calmness claims her as she waves to all farewell

For life is good at Elk Cliff Farm, and that she's glad to tell.