He wondered what they were doing
In that cow pasture Monday morning
They were carrying a bag of sticks
Occasionally one would yell a warning
A little ball they were chasing after
After hitting it hard with a shiny stick
You could hear curses and profane words
When the ball landed in shrubbery thick
He guessed it must be a game
What it was he had nary a clue
They tried to hit it into a hole
Their futile attempts were not a few
The purpose of the game eluded him
So much walking couldn’t be fun
What he couldn’t figure out was
How could you tell who won?
The thing that puzzled him the most
He pondered it, oh, how he tried
How could they roam a cow pasture
Without stepping in a fresh cow pie?
June 14, 2022