BrightIdea
Well-known member
3/23, scarey nice weather
The Pointed End
Heavy head held low, hidden in the grass;
Horn parting the thickly growing stems ahead
As his long flat lips curl out and grasp the next mouthful;
A cloud passes overhead and drags a dark shadow behind it.
For a moment, he stops feeding and listens.
Shadows can be bad; this time there is no scent
And he curls his muscled lips forward to feed again.
Another heavy cloud moves over him; shadows deep.
He raises his head, stands heavy on straddled legs
And sprays thick squirts of urine stating silent
Boundaries, horn pointing proudly to the shredded sky.
Inky shadows; and the thunder rumbles towards him.
Head lowered he feeds again, his skin massaged
By rods of stinging rain. Muddy runnels trickle from
His tick-infested skin and he stands still and cool;
Dark thunder; he drops as buzz-saws savage trembling air.
Actually Delia I think your plea (the me, me me one) was eloquent enough of itself - you don't really need my help LOL. Besides, I'm too busy with my own plea here - Charles, the Zen-Rays - moi, moi ,moi . . . .
Pub quiz tonight. Doubt that we'll win that either ...