she really no longer notices, the noticing is not needed.

I am sauntering down my lane and around the curve, unexpectedly to me but fully in the moment of slanted elongated shades of early eve, sun sizzling as it touches the cold earth, is Bessy...with a slow swing of her wide hairy hips and hardly a glance my way, udder swaying fully under her belly. silently with her jaws own working, she meanders on since the lane's way is wire gird. perhaps she wonders if it is to keep the noisy petro fed pinned and at bay, the wheeled rolling beasts properly healed. then there is me, strolling the fair far end also slipping in between the elongated shadows gravel crunching below foot, am I in or out? yet she, she is neither black nor white, just a simple soft warm pale brown. i imagine pressing up against that warm softness with its beating rhythms, listening. where is the belonging? the herd?

she really no longer notices, the noticing is not needed.