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Cow Sister

July 10, 2006

The train mutters
to itself, no-one listens.
Looking out, her eyes are full
of early morning mist.

Every time she passes a cow
she dips her head
in silent acknowledgement.
She belongs with grass.

by Fiona Robyn of a small stone

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  1. July 11, 2006 at 2:29 pm

    Love this one. So unexpectedly true.

  2. July 12, 2006 at 7:41 am

    Wonderfully evocative, sweet, perfect. Not as simple as it seems, with the chugging, nodding head rhythm like a counterpoint to the more contemplative, rambling rhythm of the lines.

  3. July 14, 2006 at 7:17 pm

    This poem is going to stay with me on every train ride through pastoral country. Thank you, Fiona.

  4. July 16, 2006 at 3:12 am

    thanks all ;)

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