Herds of cattle sweep the plain
Running too fast for the weedy calf
They’ve run out into the sunset
The trampled foliage marks their successful passage
The calf contemplates – what’s a gal to do?
Which way? Well trodden? Off the beaten track?
The calf trots. Then runs. Then gallops for her life.
The tale is over. The calf gets killed for her milk, skin, meat, anyway.
How pointless! you yell.
Apologies for pointing out the obvious.
Christine Della Vedova (Western Australia)