Daisy the cow lived a life of contented routine on a sprawling green farm.

Daisy the cow lived a life of contented routine on a sprawling green farm. Each morning, she’d awaken to the rooster’s crow, the cool dew clinging to her black and white coat. With a gentle moo, she’d rise and lumber towards the long fence, joining the other cows for a breakfast of sweet, spring grass.

Daisy loved the feeling of the rough blades between her teeth, the world a symphony of crunching and contented snorts. The farmhand, a young woman named Sarah, would often greet them, her smile as warm as the rising sun. Sarah would chat as she milked the cows, their rhythmic moos a calming backdrop to her stories of the town and the coming harvest.

After breakfast, the cows would spend their days lounging under the shade of the giant oak tree, their cud rhythmically churning in their stomachs. Sometimes, playful calves would scamper around their legs, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the cows’ peaceful serenity. Daisy would watch them with a fond eye, remembering her own playful days as a calf.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Sarah would return to lead them back to the barn. The air would be alive with the chirping of crickets and the sweet scent of hay. Inside the cozy barn, Daisy would lie down on the soft bed of straw, the day’s events replaying in her mind like a gentle dream. Contented and sleepy, she’d close her eyes, ready to greet another beautiful day on the farm.