Beneath the azure skies so wide,
In fields where verdant grasses hide,
The gentle giants take their stride,
With calm, unhurried, graceful pride.

Their eyes, so deep, a tranquil pool,
Reflecting worlds both warm and cool,
As they, with nature’s ancient rule,
Stand steadfast in the evening’s lull.

The bells around their necks do chime,
A melody of simple rhyme,
That marks the passage of sweet time,
In pastoral scenes, so pure, sublime.

With every low and gentle moo,
They speak of life both old and new,
And in their presence, we construe,
A peace that’s ever strong and true.