The retired major came by most days, weather permitting.
he spoke of times past, when he had served in the sub-continent.
now his concern was far from those incadescent times.
he brought, on most occasions, an apple, or at least a lump of sugar,
to offer the cow dubed Vera-Lynn by her master,
as if a cow can havr a master,
the retired major would countenance;
'at least not in india'
where cows are revered,
and farmers choose crops first,
cereals to feed the blossoming populace.
and Vera-Lynn formed thoughts,
unbeknownst to the retired major,
that, maybe, she would go to the sub-continent,
where and when and if
such time and place could be attained.
so as the major came by,
Vera-Lynn felt urges grow strong,
until she realised it was no whimsical predisposition,
but her destiny!
but trapped in the paddock was she,
until, as luck and hate would have it,
a luftwaffe pilot
went astray
through foul or folly
and crashed headlong into the drystone wall
thus freeing his brains
and a cow called Vera-Lynn.
So the middle-aged cow set off for hope
and time left itself in the barn she never
glanced back upon.
perhaps, she thought, i could just wander the nearby pastures green,
and gnaw the cud and sip the stream,
but Vera-Lynn had something inside,
touching her four stomachs
and tickling her glam udders
for the rightening
the brightening
the god-damned sharpening
of her bovination had
it seemed
arrived.
ha ha, she snuffed, as she belched again,
fresh grass for all, for me,
for the journey and beyond.
what was it the major said,
in purest ignorance of my
cognition?
oh, to the sun,
as it rises each day,
until it hits the roof
of the sky,
then rest, dear cow, and chew the greenest of pastures,
and fast when needs must
and forget your past master.
I completely agree with you about REAL psychology being OUTSIDE the exam hall; certainly makes me feel a lot better about failing, at any rate!
17/05/08 @ 00:44