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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required There is, in the Los Angeles area, a well-known brand of milk, called Alta Dena. Near also, is the city named Alta Dena, and my grandson lives there. I asked him if he had seen the dairy there, and he told me that it does not exist. I then asked him if he had seen herds of milk cattle there and he said that he had not, and doubted that there were any. Of course I wondered why the milk had such a name, and jokingly asked him to look for at least one cow in the city, since it was well built-up, and there were no obvious open pastures at all. I told him that we could only conclude that it this had to b a very famous and rare cow that could supply all the milk needed by a large urban dairy, and thus must be insured, protected from the idle public, and secreted in some private home where she would not be disturbed. The whole story and speculation grew into a riotous family "search" for this wondrous animal. I, of course, ask my grandson each week when I see him, for a progress report on the search. Finally, I have decided to turn it into a poem: A Search Continues Something very hush-hush is going on and Alta Dena folk aren't going to tell. All cowdom secreted within its bovine lair yet Bo would stare contentedly at us with no incursive moo directed at the hellish vine that she must eat, in lieu of meadow grass. That ever-present cud must still be masticated; yea, her celebrated udder must be filled. Yet none admit to having sighted her. Beastiana though she be, no Altadenian will dare so much as low on her behalf, no bull, Eden-bound, is ready to exchange his bold, testicular desire to service mewling ruminants who merely run away. Nay, uncowed are they, though cowed they be, and cowards not--and if you do not see their wisdom, chalk it up to power, Bo's mammary magnificence, so easily in jeopardy before a single squeeze, not of a nipple but a trigger thus applied, and speeding out of sight. Challenge, indeed, our quest to find this noble and prolific queen who dominates with graceful quietude her milky empire slurping quite without a care, lush liquid destined not to slosh within her, rather in those tumescent tummies ever crying out for more. Would I betray them for a share? Of course. Away with those content to sour the milk of human kindness with deception. Let the search go on! ~
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