"The Cowpath" - A Poem.

THE COWPATH

The cowpath makes

the town girl cry.

She doesn't know why.

It's only a path

of hard-packed dirt

meandering through

the pasture,

that the cows walk on

to go get their drink.

Perhaps it silently speaks

of something she longs for.

Her world is full

of clocks and calendars,

relentless technology,

things that harrass

and make tense,

perhaps even destroy,

fast-paced highways,

constant demands,

and everything pushing and pulling.

The cowpath tells

of a slower pace,

in the midst of spacious pastures

and fields,

far-reaching horizons,

and wide, arching skies.

Cows don't run

to get their drink.

They amble slowly,

down that narrow way

through the grass.

They have no care

of clocks and calenders,

of pressing demands,

of busy highways.

The town girl soaks in

the spacious pastures

and fields,

the far-reaching horizons,

the wide, arching skies.

She loses track of

time and worries.

Even while doing

a needful farm chore,

everything pressing and harassing

recedes to nothing.

Peace and contentment

take their place.

She feels human again.

She feels in touch

with God again.

Not that God can't be

where she usually lives,

but He is so easily

crowded out

in the midst of the

fast, busy, hurried, techno,

pressing, worrisome life.

The cowpath makes the town girl cry.

Now she knows why.

Rhonda --- 4-27-2015