Beneath a cloud-heaped sky that dwarfs them,
the cattle graze, happy for their still-green pasture,
the cool air. They may be oblivious to time,
but like the autumn trees that edge their world,
something deep within them knows the seasons.
Perhaps vague memories of winter float
through their minds, long days in the dim light
of the barn, feeding on hay, soaking
in the warmth of each other’s bodies.
Perhaps they smell the coming snow.
Nevertheless, today the pasture is wide
and the grass still green, and they are content,
grazing beneath the big sky.