Grazing in the field, 

three cows ate under an oak. 

Though the wind blew

and the rain pelted them

harder than a hoard of flies

ever could, they grazed. 

And when the wind picked up

and the tree snapped 

their backs, the cows laid there, 

resting in the crimson rain. 

Their friends gathered around, 

mourning in the way only herds do,

now knowing there’s no shelter

for those left to stay in the field.