Ode to a Cow Patty

A Poem by Request

Thou clump, my friend, in moist and sculpted piles.
(The word of moist is not to write advised)
Thy shades of brown do rival Helen’s smile,
And nature doth direct thy dribblings wise.

For Heaven quailed and yet she fondly smiled
When thou did first appear in birth beneath
For God had blessed the earth with thee enstyled.
And fearsome thou, and fruitfully bequeathed.

Oh hands! Withdraw thy fingers from this place!
Oh eyes! Begone and ne’er return to gaze!
Oh lips! Now speak to God in awe for grace!
Oh words! Alight to this creation’s praise!

Pray see, my friend, how goddess eyes do fly
And quake and sigh for wondrous beauty thine.

Art thou a mountain? Thou do stand arrayed
And peaked with cliffs and valleys sweeping round.
Art thou Olympus? Zeus himself is vain
To climb thy stagg’ring swells of sculpted sound.

Be thou a diamond, rudely though thou shines;
Be thou a rainbow, flaming through this brown.
Be thou a summer, squashing, firmly mine.
Be thou my love, though swift thou joins to ground.

And man, forgetting, thy piles tread, refuse,
And push them further down to valleys make.
Though men of old do greatness thus abuse
Hast thou always remained in faithful cakes—

As long as cattle strong exist in time,
So too shall thou, this humble earth’s cowpie.

Picture from Pinterest

Written on January 10 & 11, 2026.