With a Bovine

Swapped stories with a bovine today, just to pass the time. Asked her if the days roll on without her knowledge, if the days grow on like grass. She said the birds hop more than the bunnies in grounded pursuit of berries. I wasn’t sure what she meant. I sensed she was shy, unattainable, watching her marbles roll through the green maze and meadows. Eternal peace forever. Unperturbed by my line of questioning which I’ll admit was stiff as the pitch pine. I saw a couple glide by in the river on a picnic table with a red checkered tablecloth. I said I miss the cherry exterior of newness and even the pit in the middle that chips my teeth when I forget it is there. She chops my ineptitude to mush but takes her time to look at me while chewing. Says unlike the black ants

I drag my despair behind me like a leashed dog.