Skip to main content

Ten Cows, a poem by Roger Pfingston

Ten Cows

     for Nancy who saw it first

In a fenced pasture,  

after brunching  

the morning away     

under October sun,

ten black cows relax  

at noon in a folded posture, 

favoring a lean to the left

while chewing their cud  

in a state of ruminating 

indifference—the white

noise of Highway 46, 

the stacked panorama            

of cumulus clouds—

all in all the signs of a 

healthy herd just outside

Ellettsville, Indiana.

And that’s good enough. 

A retired teacher of English and photography, Roger Pfingston is the recipient of a Creative Writing Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts and two PEN Syndicated Fiction Awards. He has new poems in Innisfree Poetry Journal, Sheila-Na-Gig, Tipton Poetry Journal, American Journal of Poetry, I-70 Review, South 85 Journal, and Midwest Review. His latest chapbook, What’s Given, is available from Kattywompus Press.