Another day and the sun rises, like it has countless times before. A spider crawls out from the crack that runs to my top. It strings a thread down to the highest line of rusty barbed wire reaching out in line with the ditch. Soon a perfect web glistens in the sun, awaiting something that looks like breakfast.
The cows are out early. I notice the fat one eyeing me up. It ambles over, its mouth grinding back and forth with a stray blade of grass sticking out one side and drool cascading down the other. I look for any sign of intelligence in its wide, dark, eyes, but once again find nothing. I think it’s going to pass me by, but I’m wrong. It turns and¾Oh no, not the ass end.
I’m nearly ripped from the ground as it pushes a massive thigh back and forth across me. On the field side I’ve lost most of the dried lichen that took years to build up, and I’m becoming smooth and irregular in shape. The others say it’s not a problem, but I hear them snicker when they think I’m not paying attention.
Stupid cow. I can’t wait until she’s taken off in the big long trailer like the rest of them. Then I can get some peace and quiet, for a few months at least.
At a recent writing session, we were asked to write for 10 minutes about an inanimate object. This isn’t something I normally enjoy, mostly because I don’t think I do it well, but then the image of the cow rubbing up against a screaming fence post came to mind and here we are.
In case you missed it, I have a big announcement coming soon. Very, very soon. Websites and newsletters and books, oh my! Stay tuned.