Gospel song

I see seven blood-red bovines grazing

in the meadow. They don't look up, they

do not look around. They just love the

grass. They enjoy the daisies, the ditches,

the lapwings. Maybe that's why they do

not hear it. The grim growling of  the four

horsemen of the Apocalypse. Maybe that

is why they do not see it. The shadows of

the marching soldiers. Seven blood-red

bovines are grazing in a meadow. Their

tails wave away the tickling mosquitoes.

Their rough lips kiss the innocent earth.