Maids

Maids. Yesterday I saw an old fashion milk maid coming out of the cowshed she carried a pail of milk in her left arm, the grip so firm fingers used to squeezing cows long teats twice a day… and she was followed by five cats with erect tails…. She is the last of a vanishing group of stout women who smell of cream and honey. She had an open freckled face and sunlight danced on her Monroe lips; too late now for me, milking machines quite obscene, a Fata Morgana? When I blinked she vanished.