Brownie's Calf

On those endless rides of childhood Down trails of dark and light, There are those that you remember And those that haunt your night. The green fresh days of farm and ranch When you raised your first sow— The flowing sea of bluestem grass, The calf that was your cow. You helped give life to Brownie’s calf Or least so you did hope, By helping tug its leg around— Holding that bloody rope. Then Dad said you could have that calf To feed just like your own, Then Brownie’s calf became your pet— A friend when you’re alone. Yet, you were big enough to know The fate of each old cow, Yet you knew this was different— But you weren’t sure just how. And so one day Brownie came home And her calf was not there, Then did the same, time and again— But that calf was no where. Now Brownie’s calf had gone away, But you weren’t sure just where— So Dad and you searched the far fields In hopes you’d find her there. Then to some woods and creek you came Where birds flew overhead And then the smell of that calves flesh Told you that she was dead. You turned and ran back to the ranch— Sought out old Brownie’s face— And knew that life is just a chance But for our good Lord’s grace.