A new-born calf calls for its mother,
a goldfinch and mate dance in mid-air.
We talk of war and peace,
walk along the frontline; a line
so fine we cannot find it –
maybe we have already crossed over.
Cuckooflower waves in the wind,
spring-water pools in the cow’s
footprint.
Hedgehog, fox, and badger
cross and criss-cross these fields
we call Willie’s or Jimmy’s or Jack’s
as the calf stumbles on all fours feeling
his way.
©Photo & poem by Bernadette
Gallagher, 2022
Published: Live Encounters Dec 2023
