“Listen to those
contented cows
mooing. Oh I love
the sounds of
the country” they
say as they drive
past a black herd
in a green field.
Not seeing,
on the other
side of the road,
black calves,
separated
just last night
from their mothers.
Who are crying
in pain and fear
trying to get
their babies back.
Sensing that their
future lies in
a terrifying
truck journey
and then the
cutting of throats.
nomdeplume 
What a powerful poem..
LikeLike