In the slow, urgent cadence of cattle,
the black cows
move again across a landscape
of yellow grass and snow
to where they last heard
the familiar bawl,
dumb to all but ache—
whether of teat or heart
we men cannot know,
though we watch
and have had familiar loves
that for a summer of time were
but are now only silence.
Home of Have, Poems by Lee Robison 
Ah, yes, this spoke to me. I watch the cattle in the field behind our house and hear the bawls of the cows when their calves have been taken away. Weaning is hard. Today my daughter is experiencing that as her youngest son is flying from home in Switzerland to CA on a one-way ticket. At 23 he is testing his wings! Weaning never is easy!
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