Naughty Calves

• Talei Holm, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2013

The moans of unsatisfied calves was always there.
Calling to their new mother for more milk.
They were all such funny little things,
With milk all over their noses
As they drunk hungrily from the small black buckets.
After their dinner
Some would lie down in the soft straw,
Ready for the night,
And a new day, exactly the same as the last,
While some would prance around,
In the small rings which was their home,
Bellowing,
Jumping,
Playing with their friends,
And the occasional one would knock the ring over,
Then everyone would be running everywhere,
Trying to catch the little terror.
Some would even try to go to the dairy,
Where their real mother
Would be going around,
In a big, slow circle,
Just like the day before.
It always made me wonder,
How those naughty calves knew.