[lit-ideas] Another Thursday poem

Do you sometimes hear, 

And veer your thoughts away,

The bray of asses

Pulling the greatest of them

Past the injuries and threats

In great carts built

For the purpose?  Roses

 

And carnations make

Some streets sweet to smell,

I suppose.  I won't think about

Where they've been or even

If they have, or where

They're going, hiding as I do

In a certain way away.

 

Why do they pull so, those beasts,

The great weight behind?

I glance down at my dogs

Taking their ease and if later

When we walk they pull,

It is toward the scent 

Of some other dog,

 

But those pull toward their own

Scent and rise up with tails

Flaring out in all the colors

Of the rainbow looking about

As though loving everyone.  Their beatific

Gaze not heavenward but down.

When the wind shifts they are overwhelmed.

Other related posts: