In October dew
curved horns spiral down
to the giving earth,
gentle heads munching
soggy glowing grass
shimmering in sun.

These are not the days
of spooky cattle
driven cross-country
to some unseen place
where cowboys get drunk
and waste their money

after outlasting
the stereotypes
that made epic films
the myth we desire
affirming our taste
for making heroes

from splintered dust
and desperate pilgrims.
On this gentle slope
these quiet giants
graze a life that some
cowboys would envy.