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POETRY BOOK ONE: Poems People Like to Silently Move Their Lips While Reading
A Moo

Their cowbells tolling a dull tonk song,
Randomly clanking cows stroll along,
With occasional clamors as one shakes her head
At an impatient calf who awaits being fed,
But doesn’t belong.

A moo.
And another moo too to the dusk rising moon,
Crickets are clicking in the darkening gloom.
The cow-licked calf being groomed by its mom
Follows the herd as they amble along,
His smaller bell clatters in a tinkling tune:
The cows will be coming home soon.

|| My Poetry ||