The ear of a donkey
Another beautiful fresh and breezy day. I worked in the polytunnel all morning and now it's ready to go! The manure is dug in, the chard is weeded, the pots are cleaned, the rocket is trimmed and there are even tiny buds on the vine.
A quick afternoon in school and then another lesson with the dslr. We went to the northside where the wind was whipping down upon us and didnt linger for long. This piebald donkey found us very curious but each time we looked at him he moved or turned away. He has a very knowing eye.
THE DONKEY'S EAR
I've been talking into the ear of a donkey.
I have so much to say, and the donkey can't wait
To feel my breath stirring the immense oats
Of his ears. "What has happened to the spring,"
I say, "and our legs that were so joyful
In the bobblings of April? I do feel teenier
As if some taut giant, once at the center
Of things, had moved to Sweden. Am I an ant
Struggling to lift a dark barn
Off its base? Am I changing my road
So that I can play with the old moonlight
Once more, and be what I once was, a lover
Whispering, struggling to catch fur in my hands
So I can lift my lips closer to the donkey's ear?