What Humans Do
At square in fence, the goat reached through
For greener grass to graze.
He used the common human view
For his own salad days.
His head went through; his horns as well,
And turned, he then, to eat.
But at the ending dinner bell
He could not then retreat.
The horns that slid through easily
When started near the head,
Were like the spikes a car rolls o’er
And coming back, ruins tread.
And so the fence had got his goat
And would not turn it loose.
The rest moved ‘way to eat and drink –
Their friend ensnared in noose.
My road went by, that summer day,
Clouds fleeing like the flock
And sun beat down, unmerciful
On pris’ner in the stock.
So I pulled o’er and made my way
Through ditch and up to fence
Where goat endured my quick advance
Due to his impotence.
The scene surveyed, I saw the square –
Rectangle was instead.
I seized the beast by horns and turned
Him lengthwise, freed the head.
And then he quickly moved away
Without a bleat of thanks
I saw a major difference there,
Twixt man and goatish ranks.
Yet, if I pass another day,
I’ll free him that time, too.
In spite of his ingratitude.
Cause that’s what humans do.
© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.