Letter To Pigeon P

P Your last letter had interesting news I will try to answer for you The information you give, I need to chew There is a hungry cow on the block to feed too I don't eat cows as I am Hindu Hindus do not kill cows as you know But they do get hungry, both cow and sow When I see them near my milk booth, I feel low. Long ago we had six healthy cows In our shed they had a safehouse Every six months, a bull would visit To end the merriment, we pulled him by ropes tied to his horn This is how the bull was thrown into the street So that calves could be born in peace So that calves could be licked So that calved could get their milk If another bull was found, he was sure to be turned out For he left us sleepless and had no clout Bulls never went to the backfield Where the cows went for their daily feed I saw the bull from my lookout Walking the street up and down His calves were in my shed at the far corner of the lawn Kept licking his nose as he smelt his milky calves Twenty years later he was still walking my street A lone bull, without his fleet The smell of milk kept his peace Only after his senses were filled could he fall asleep The bull was delicate as silk Other strong bulls were made to pull a cart In our house they got milk And a yearly release to get a taste of love's feel Only once, after the calves were grown, did he kill A woman he saw out in the lane She was new mother returning from the mill Her breasts were full, laden and smelling of milk. Here is no moralizing or whining Only commonness of common sense revealed by tale-telling To explain why, to our house came learned Brahmins Your question, P, has to wait a day for answering.