But oh – the soil is like sand,
Flowers and veggies try,
then shrivel and die.
I work the garden, adding compost,
things like toast,
eggshells, coffee grinds,
even old rinds.
One old farmer said,
“Owning a cow would fix this homestead.
She would give the fertilizer you need,
it would be her you would feed.”
“What the hell!” I thought.
“Really? Why not?”
I already have hens and a rabbit ,
being odd is now a habit.
To a buy a calf, I went to Maine;
where calf-buying isn’t quite insane.
As it is North of Boston ,
around here they don’t sell them too often!
This farmer had to be ninety-two,
when he saw me he didn’t know what to do.
He looked at me, then at the van,
exclaiming, “I really don’t understand!”
After a thorough investigation,
I broke past his hesitation.
My father knew his late son,
relatives worked for another one.
When I lifted the little calf,
he had to laugh.
“You’ll do – I guess,
I just hope he doesn’t make a mess!”
At home, we settled the little one into the shed,
let’s call it a barn instead.
He needed to have the company of another,
so we bought him a mother.
My sweet, sweet, Shasta!
Oh – she fills the pasture.
I say I bought her for manure,
but of that I am not so sure.
Gardening brings me peace,
but milking this beast…
There are no words to explain how,
how it is to be centered by a cow!