Cattle in winter

Poetry Walk - February

Snowlight peers at the byre door.
Neither day nor night.
Four months ago we fetched the cattle in,
safe from reiving wind and rain,
months of standing and shifting, burdened
with patience. When will winter end?

Thin strakes of sun on the byre floor.
Fork a load of silage out,
straighten your back to watch them shove
their muzzles in, and wonder if they crave
the hazy nights when they can roam
among tall summer grasses, sleek and sound and warm.


I suddenly realised that I had not blipped the February Poetry Stone. So, in a brief interval between rain and rugby, we set off for Kirkby Stephen. In order to get from the January stone to February, the bridge, seen here, has to be crossed and then an ancient path followed to an old stone barn. The stone itself is not terribly inspiring, being four big stones on top of one another, on the flat side of which is the poem transcribed below.

I actually found the carved picture this time and I think it is rather nice, depicting as it does cattle in a barn, so I have blipped that. Certainly, if cattle were able to think in this way, they must indeed be wondering now whether winter will ever end and they will get out.

This shows the stone as one approaches it and this shows the old footpath and barn. This is the poem side and the poem in close up to show the carving.

Thank you everyone who commented on my bronze figure. If there is anyone like me, who rarely tries photographing ‘things’ and really doesn’t know where to start with still-life, it is worth reading Hobb’s comment on yesterday’s blip, where he explains the point of it. Following any of his links takes you to some stunning photographs.