POEM: The Mind of Urban Cattle

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What's a city
through the eyes
of a mid-city cow?

Growing up on a farm,
I can't say I ever questioned
how a cow perceived 
the pasture --
vast tracts of 
green, green grass
seemed like a natural habitat,
though I recognize 
that a philosophical cow 
might see nothing natural 
in its circumstance, either way.

What of the fast moving vehicles?
the horns?
the best grass fenced off?
the rush of humanity?
the bright, white lights?
the stink of human life?

Can they tune it all out
as well as they seem to?

Zen mind / cow mind?

I wonder?

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