Cows

This is one of a bunch of poems like this where I focus on animals and how they're doing things that are unexpected.

This time it was cows, they are to blame.

These creatures so cunning, so careful, so clever,

Always watching, waiting for the perfect time, they play our little game.

 For who would suspect a cow? We would never.

A goat, perhaps, and a chicken with no doubt, 

But a cow, with its act, makes us think it can do no harm.

Like a deadly disease through the fields they fan out, 

Secretly plotting to rule the farm.

But now it’s too late, the cows are diffuse,

Covering the world with the sound of a moo.

Those who suspect are quietly made into juice,

As for the rest of us, they are coming for me, and for you.

They have already begun their work,

While Rome burned, it was a cow who played the fiddle

The Great Chicago Fire, started by a cow’s leg jerk.

All the while the motive of the cow is a riddle,

But still they act behind the scenes

In 1929 destroying the worldwide economy-

While having organized the overthrow of both Egyptian kings and queens,

Seeking to launch the human race into World War III.

The genius of the cowish plan

Is its ability to eradicate the race of man.

For while humans guard against each other

The evil of cows we fail to uncover.