A herd of cows is idling on the beach, not a tuft of grass in sight, not even a plastic bag. What made them wander this way?
They sit or they stand, and they stare in that passive stupid way of cows.
Are they enjoying the cool sea breeze? The beauty of the sunset? Digesting their meal?
It's hard to say. Their expressions give nothing away.
As if guessing my thoughts, one turns its head and looks steadily at me. And the reproach in its eyes seems to say: "What is this life, if full of care,/We have no time to stand and stare?"
I stand reproached.
Maybe cows are wiser than I thought.
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