My Father's Mule

by Gary Davis

 

His ears are really used for gathering

His hooves are what people hear.

His eyes feel the closeness of a rockslide trail

And his legs are that of a deer.

 

He packs his weight with a diamond-back knot.

He starts in two half hitches,

Winding between the weaving pines,

At day's end, he's lathering.

 

 

 

 

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