They always look content
in their broad-shouldered
bovine way, chewing,
gazing benignly around
with glazed vacant eyes.

What can they imagine
of what lies ahead
bred as they are for milk
and beef?

We know they’re aware
of their lives.  On hot days,
they move into puddles of shade.
A heifer moans and wails
when her calf is dragged away.
Herded into trucks on the way
to slaughter houses, bleats
and wild eyes emerge between
the slats.

And what do we understand
about our human lives and what
lies behind it and ahead of us?
Are we too bred for sustenance
for a higher form of life?
Is our own mortal energy
food for the Gods?