The Last Ruminant
By benafim
A Last Ruminant By the gate, on a pale field that used to feed six cows, a lone one stood looking mournful while the fall’s afternoon sky was cool, still bare, immensely beautiful, indifferent and timeless. I leaned over the gate spoke softly and the cow licked my face with a sandpaper tongue, satisfied that she was no longer alone she began gracing only looking up briefly to see if I still was there. Up behind me, on the dirt track, Joe, from the knacker’s yard, came lumbering on his old truck. “The last one to go Joe?” He nodded, put a rope around the cows neck and up the ramp she walked for a brief journey. “Want a lift?”…”No I prefer to Walk.” Joe started the engine blue diesel fume filled the air, leaned out and said “ Sometimes I hate this job slaughtering animals that no one needs no more” and off he slowly drove. Written October 16th, 2001 © on Oct 16 2001 07:14 AM PST 20 • 0 • 1
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"A Last Ruminant ..."