Stumbling Home

Between father and sunset I sit down
a child again on his back steps
where eyes follow foothills
to long memorized mountains.

His hearing nearly gone
I shout in his good ear
about noisy peepers
and cars roaring home
down his country road.

Yes, it’s peaceful here, he agrees

so we share the view instead
still awhile until we see them
single-file, heads over heels
lowing, the cows stumble home

weight-watchers?
I want to tease him

ruminants?
I want to ask

a string of full and satisfying words
who know their way home
by heart.