The Cows at Night by Hayden Carruth
A knot has formed in my throat. The moment seems to stretch endlessly as I write this. It’s so beautiful it hurts. My chest hurts, and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover. Thank you, M.
The Cows at Night
Hayden CarruthThe moon was like a full cup tonight,
too heavy, and sank in the mist
soon after dark, leaving for lightfaint stars and the silver leaves
of milkweed beside the road,
gleaming before my car.Yet I like driving at night
in summer and in Vermont:
the brown road through the mistof mountain-dark, among farms
so quiet, and the roadside willows
opening out where I sawthe cows. Always a shock
to remember them there, those
great breathings close in the dark.I stopped, and took my flashlight
to the pasture fence. They turned
to me where they lay, sadand beautiful faces in the dark,
and I counted them–forty
near and far in the pasture,turning to me, sad and beautiful
like girls very long ago
who were innocent, and sadbecause they were innocent,
and beautiful because they were
sad. I switched off my light.But I did not want to go,
not yet, nor knew what to do
if I should stay, for howin that great darkness could I explain
anything, anything at all.
I stood by the fence. And thenvery gently it began to rain.
The Bedside Poet
You are welcome, lagi…