Moo by Sharon Creech

braid
    swinging slowly
    left to right
    right to left.

FOG
    Down to the harbor
    early one Saturday morning
    Mom and Dad and me and Luke
    before
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  the tourists swarmed
    before
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  the stores opened.
    Soft, gray
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  fffffffog
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  hovered
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  over the water
    masking the moored boats.
    We climbed down to the small
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  stretch of beach
    seaweed and mussel shells
    splayed across the rocks.
    Fish smell and salt air
    mast creaks and rope jangles.
    And as we stood there
    the fog rose
    slowly, surely,
    revealing first the hulls
    and then the masts
    of wooden vessels
    their sails
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  rolled
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  into
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  cocoons
    and lobster boats wave-rolling
    and red-blue-yellow buoys bobbing.
    My mother said,
    Oh!
    Did you ever see anything
    like that
    ever
    in your life?
    And I was thinking that
    I never saw anything like
    everything I was seeing
    never saw anything like
    those everythings
    ever
    in
    my
    life.
    Sometimes I had to
    close my eyes
    to rest them from
    all the new everythings
    pouring in.

DREAMS
    At night I dreamed of Zora
    of her wide furry body
    and her giant head
    and her huge black eyes
    and in the dreams
    I combed her
    and talked with her
    and she was warm
    and comforting
    and I smelled the sawdust
    in her stall
    and felt the softness of her fur
    and in the dream
    she talked to me.
    She said
    Yes, I am lonely.
    Yes, I am.
    So I stroked her
    and combed her
    and told her
    that I would find
    some company
    for her.

PLANS
    I was nervous, nervous, but I geared up my courage and talked first to Beat and Zep and then to the owners of Birchmere Farm. I was afraid they would laugh at me, but they didn’t.
    Of course , they said. She needs to be around other cows. Of course.
    They said that I could bring Zora to their farm where there was plenty of room and plenty of other cows, as long as I took care of her.
    Zora comes from a long line of Grand Champions , Mr. Birch said. Did you know that?
    No, I did not.
    And she should show well as long as you can keep that temper of hers under control.
    Beat and Zep would help me train Zora and they would train me, too, so that I would know how to show Zora at the fair.
    A long line of Grand Champions!
    That sounded impressive, didn’t it? It sounded like a perfect plan, right?

A LONG LINE
    Mrs. Falala was not so excited about the plan.
    Move Zora? Take my Zora? That eez not happening.
    But she would have company , I said. Lots and lots of company.
    Mrs. Falala waved my words away with one hand.
    I am the company of Zora , Mrs. Falala said. Me and Edna and Paulie and China and Crockett. We are plenty company.
    Mrs. Falala sat on the hay bale that had become her regular seat for drawing with Luke. Patting the bale next to her, she opened her notebook and looked up at Luke expectantly.
    But, I persisted, look how sad Zora seems. Look how she hangs her head. Listen to those sad moos.
    That eez not sad hanging head! Mrs. Falala snapped. Those are not sad moos. Those are normal cow moos and normal cow heads.
    I said, I hear Zora comes from a long line of Grand Champions.
    Mrs. Falala clicked her tongue and tapped her pencil on her notebook. You want to see Grand Champions? she said. Go look in barn, past the halters, go on, you go look,
    Luke and I have drawing to do.
    Along a wooden rail
    at one end of the barn
    near the halters and ropes
    and rakes and shovels
    and buckets and barrels
    hung a row of photos
    the images clouded over
    with dust and cobwebs.
    With a rag, I cleared away the glass.
    In each was a Beltie
    and a young woman
    holding a medallion and blue