if the fan were to stop we would all be still

that achy breath is hard to ignore. the calf suckles and thinks of a song that reminded her of winter.
it was sweet, and heavy, a distinct smokey sunrise to it. in the meadow she stretches her spindle legs, the arch of her back is hollow. she is weak from dead grass in her mothers breast. if the naked sun would touch upon those beady eyes, maybe she would see something grander. this is just a speculation, and in fact the only reason this tender heifer is still alive is her rabid sense of duty to the land. she touches her tongue to the leftover dung and tastes something that reminded her of winter.