The cattle know when a storm is coming

And  swiftly seek the shelter of their barn,

As if some sixth sense gave a gentle warning

To seek out refuge in the safe and warm.

The sky was clear, no whisper there of rain,

No thunder rumbled deep upon the hills;

Still in procession to the byre they came,

As if the green had given them their fill.

Now safe within the sun-stained amber dusk

They softly lowed their bug-eyed grateful praise

And carefully nosed plank floors for fallen husks,

For any morsel of forgotten grain.

Then came a flash—a brilliant bolt of light—

I saw just then—the cows had all been right!