A Pastoral on A Texas Pasture

A pleasing pastoral scene,
The meadow spreads out far and near;
The cattle browse in silent peace;
The autumn fields lie gold and sere.

(This poem tells little of the truth.
The meadow's full of crap, forsooth,
For cows do plop where'er they go
In autumn straw or winter snow.)

And in the distant autumn light,
A hazy blue conceals a hill;
A farm lad stops to see the sight
And revel in the evening chill.

(And ants and bugs and beetles creep
In spots where muddy waters seep,
And buzzards don't just soar on high:
They gorge on any corpse they spy!)

So, all is not what it may seem;
Thus, do beware your pastoral dream!

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Gale B. (tangolady)

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Comments 1 to 3 of 3

Eva L. (wearetrees) - 7/12/2008 2:22 AM ET

Gale, the words of your poem are crisp like the landscape they describe - at once sober and sublime.

Nan C L. (JoyDiva) - 7/21/2008 11:51 AM ET

This was so funny. It just caught me off guard - you're expecting a nice, normal blah poem and then you sneak in "rest of the story" - it made me laugh. I did enjoy this poem!

Sabriena W. (hazeleyesrangeleyes) - 8/15/2008 9:10 PM ET

I thought it funny, too. There are two (or more!) ways to look at everything, including the scenery!

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The Eclectic Pen - Pastoral on A Texas Pasture

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