River

River

The Shield of Achilles

The Cows

The cows driven in gold and in tin:
They long to move, eager to begin—
Out of the stall to greening grasses.
They low with hunger for meadow growth,
For clover and sorrel—gladly devoured.

From cowshed to pasture they wander,
Past rustling reeds in brisk strides,
Past splashing waters at break of dawn.

The cows—

Amid smoke and suffocating fumes:
Hephaestus
Forges and welds armor
That nonetheless bears
Peaceful pastoral scenes
On silver shields and golden cuirasses—

With cows.

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