Audio Poetry

Bringing in the cows by Roisin Bugler

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Bringing the Cows
Summer evening and my turn to bring the cows
from Brady’s the field furthest from our house,
an uphill climb.
I cannot see them concealed in a far corner of the field,
cud chewing their readiness for the journey.
I take a moment to admire the view, it would be rude of me not to.
I stretch my arms full length.
Even though my span is only ten years wide,
beyond fingertips I still see ancient lake and mountainside.
I am above it all up here,
close to the crest of Sliabh Aughty.
Close to a natural God.
I find my Friesians.  Carefully I count, once I came without one cow.
My father was not impressed, it took time for me to realise,
I had left money in the field.
Headcount complete we file towards the open gate and home.
Scents of summer mingle. Yellow furze, heady
banana coconut blends with the grassy sweet smell of the cows.
Udders full and gently swaying,
I lean against the last cow.
Walk in unison, our moving meditation.
At the stream thirstier cows
lower their heads to take huge draughts of water.
Slowly I count to five then – hup hup!
We amble on towards the parlour,
where my father awaits our arrival.