Cud Chewing Time - Part II

The Tibetans have 85 words for states of consciousness
This dozy cow I want to be has none.
She doesn't speak.
She doesn't do housework or worry about her appearance.
She doesn't roam.
Safe in her fleet
of shorn-white-bowl-like friends,
she needs, and loves, and's loved by,
only this -
the farm I want to be a cow on too.

Don't come looking for me.
Don't come walking out into the bright sunlight
looking for me,
black in your gloves and stockings and sleeves
and large hat.
Don't call the tractorman.
Don't call the neighbors.
Don't make a special fruit-cake for when I come home:
I'm not coming home.
I'm going to be a cowman's counted cow.
I'm going to be a cow
and you won't know me.

(by Selma Hill)

That's a very peculiar yet interesting poem. Not exactly a sonnet.

lol, I almost spit out a mouthful of drink when I read your comment.
Exactly my thoughts as I read it, then typed it: WTf, nah WTH
---- couldn't figure out the 'point' or message/moral of the poem.