POEM — THE COW ON MY DOORSTEP

By Harry Waitzman

Once I tried to grab the tail of a cow
and got swatted on my face.
I was alone with the smell of hay
in the barn and the sound of swallows
whirring in the eaves.

I tried milking the young Guernsey
and got blisters on my fingers.
After bandaging them, I tried again
and missed the pail more often than not.
In a month I made music on the metal.

  harry waltzman, poem, the cow on my doorstep