A Ghost Story

Ghost of a calf

"I doubt he'll make it
Born too soon
But stay and watch
If you want
Pray even"

Rope was tied round the unborn legs
as the farmer pulled
with a rough gentleness
born of years on the land.

And slowly,
very slowly
the calf lunged out into the waiting world
tongue swollen in a head too big for his sickly body.

Its mother still bleeding
lay exhausted, large eyes watching
as the farmer swung her unbreathing calf round and round in a grotesque parody of care.
His huge hands rubbing, rubbing, willing life into the spindly form
as my knuckles clenched in desperate hope grew whiter and whiter.

It took until sunset
But it did breath
It did stand
And the next morning I walked the misty lanes back to the field and the calf

Only the calf wasn't there
Anxiously I called to the man in the distance
"How's the calf that was born last night?

"No calf born here Missie
Not had cows for nearly 60 years
Not since old Bob farmed here

You sure you got the right field?"