On the main island, I saw a young man
herding some cattle, swinging a bucket
or what is called that name in this wild place.
He smiled at me and gestured; “milking time”
he sang, the smile becoming a wide large grin.
How should I respond to such trite comment?
“They seem,” I said, “healthy. Do they milk well?”
His look stiffened: “What do you know of cows?”;
and then he laughed, full of his own giggles
which turned him from some uprightness to Earth,
bent like a hair grip at the waist, straightened,
and looked ahead at the near horizon,
and walked on calmly with expression blank,
the small black short-haired beasts each following him.
I have seen better in many countries.
|