Tag Archives: missouri



Grass gnawing
Turf tearing
Icon of contentment
Barn born bovine
Hay hungry herd huddler
Placid pie plopper
Unbridled idler
Four stomached, ruminating
Walleyed with wonder
Lowly lowing
Generous giant
Milk making miracle
Butter bringer
Beef behind

Brown like whole wheat
Brown as warm wood
Black like crickets
Black as dark coffee
White like warm quilts
Heavy as full cream

Bracing themselves against the wind
Enjoying each other’s company
They stand, sit, walk in heaps
Hopefully approach you
Tickling tongue nibbling leaves from your open hand
Feed them from your fingers, feel the fine fur
Fuzzy ears focusing
Big wet snouts outsize your palm
Long lashes catch the light
Delicate details
Dense marble eyes, gentility, impossible deep souls
Hollow yet happy
Vacant yet wise















I didn’t write anything last night! Narcolepsy won.

So here is another of my old poems.



I remember the giant old tree

In the courtyard of Trinity college

In Dublin.

It was all gnarls and moss.

It drank hundreds of gallons of water

Which would otherwise have ruined the college’s foundations.

It was clearly alive

A sage of its kind

With character all its own.

I can see how the Britons might fancy

Their trees to have spirits

If they have such trees as that.


American trees, Missouri trees especially, are




Weak rooted.

American trees don’t know frost or hardship.

They know small things

And think them large.

American trees are children.

They are flexible and joyous and green

And they shake their leaves in laughter

At their wise older cousins.