A feral cow’s in those backwoods
Where the subdivision’s going.
I saw it once among dogwoods,
Head in a bower and lowing.
Once, but not since—and so long ago
I might have dreamed it. And not knowing
Which, I’m left to think as I now go
Past how the flowers then were snowing,
Rose into pine, youth made me wise,
Earth free. Oblique ways of showing
All mystery mine. It was in this wise
I came here, and why I keep going.