til the cows come home

i see them in the spring--
a bit slower than their usual plodding pace
and then, when it can't possibly be warm enough,
i see them, birthing, red, squishy, steam rising off little calves.

after the first few hours of much licking and nuzzling and hesitant steps
they begin to feel more sure on their feet and before too many days
they are frolicking, running, kicking up their heels like kindergartners.

when next i see them they have become teenagers, some still entranced
with the newness of life, but mostly they huddle, hang around each other but not one
too far from its mother's side in case it needs her warmth or milk.

always though, i see them headed together in the same direction, and i wonder
is it time now? are they coming home?