There’s no me without you, 
says the cow in the sunlight 
being looked at, being drawn 
by the child with crayons. 

Is the hill an almond? the child 
wants to know. Is life irrefutable? 

The start of ‘me’ is the start of 
the ending of ‘you.’ See that hole
in your sock where
the cold can get through?

The child’s toe sticks 
through the hole now.

Some philosophers grow ulcers 
from eating loneliness. 
There’s not much we know.

The cow’s tongue smacks its lips. 

The child fills in its spots 
with blue crayon and silence. 
A dragonfly or not.

Copyright © 2022 by Evan Gill Smith. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 18, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.

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“I was outside of Eureka, California, driving up a steep road through dense fog. When the fog broke, I found myself on a hilltop surrounded by what seemed like the happiest cows on Earth, grazing in sunlight and resting beneath pine trees. I have twice returned to this moment in my dreams. This poem is an imagined dialogue between a child and one of those cows.”
—Evan Gill Smith