"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference." ~ Elie Wiesel
Friday, October 11, 2013
Fresh
Something peaceful for Poetry Friday. A moment on the farm.
.JPG)
MILKING TIME
by Elizabeth Madox Roberts
When supper time is almost come,
But not quite here, I cannot wait,
And so I take my china mug
And go down by the milking gate.
The cow is always eating shucks
And spilling off the little silk.
Her purple eyes are big and soft—
She always smells like milk.
And Father takes my mug from me,
And then he makes the stream come out.
I see it going in my mug
And foaming all about.
And when it's piling very high,
And when some little streams commence
To run and drip along the sides,
He hands it to me through the fence.
*******
The Poetry Friday round-up is at Writing the World for Kids.
A word from Wendell Berry: “Husbandry is the name of all practices that sustain life by connecting us conservingly to our places and our world; it is the art of keeping tied all the strands in the living network that sustains us.
And so it appears that most and perhaps all of industrial agriculture's manifest failures are the result of an attempt to make the land produce without husbandry.”
Today's Poetry Friday round up is at Writing the World for Kids.
Wonderful poem and photos -- enjoyed the Berry quote too. :)
ReplyDeleteLovely capturing of that moment, Tabatha. I grew up spending summers on relatives' farms-remember well that warm and foamy milk. Your photos, like the poem, are so bright and beautiful! Thank you!
ReplyDeletewonderful poem! We used to visit my mom's relatives in NYState and I remember that warm milk. Love the quote about husbandry. Very nice!
ReplyDeleteNicely fresh from the farm...
ReplyDeleteLove this poem, Tabatha--especially that purple-eyed cow who smells like milk and the steaming mug. Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem, Tabatha. And that quote by Wendell Berry is a knock-out. I think I could listen to him all day.
ReplyDeletePurple eyed cows and steaming mugs of milk - I need to get away from the city and flee to a farm, I think. Happiness and peace!
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely post, so full of gentleness and good wholesome earthiness! (Of course, I'm a peasant from way back... born with dirt under my fingernails, I think.)
ReplyDeleteLove the Berry quote! We have recently started buying all our milk and yogurt from a local dairy. The milk is so fresh and good that if you close your eyes when you sip, you can taste a hint of grass, and behind that, the sun!
ReplyDeleteThis was like a small moment of meditation. Thank you. I love that spilling of silk...
ReplyDeleteAs someone who grew up in a big city (and still lives in the suburbs) I love the images in this poem. I can taste the milk! Thanks so much for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteWonderful, charming poem, Tabatha! Your pictures are beautiful, too!
ReplyDeleteThe rhythms of life on the farm are a perfect match for poetry. Thanks for sharing. *Off to get a glass of milk before bed ...*
ReplyDeleteI hope to see those big, soft purple eyes when I head to the farm this weekend-- it's corn maze time!
ReplyDelete