Since this prompt was my suggestion,
I’ll offer this pastoral little verse to go with it.
Hendrick the Hereford rests in the shade
having fulfilled his duties;
all summer long life was a song
romancing bovine beauties.
Now it’s fall and he feels the call
to loaf in the dappled dale,
munch his way through a bale of hay
and swat pesky flies with his tail.
Richness of the pasture,
the warmth of sunshine,
rains of heaven: a prairie
summer captured in clover,
cut, ripened, baled and bound.
Rolls scattered through fields
at random or neatly aligned:
summer bundled in bronze.
Winter-disguised as vague lumps
under clean, snowy blankets,
wind-dusted at times.
Frozen, frosted, they still appeal;
hungry deer tug at sweet strands,
certain it’s all for them; – and find
last summer’s mice nestled deep.