A Tail Poem by Rich Harney

The cattle and the fog in the meadow low,
Each to each they watch the pithy sun retreat.
Then nigh as darkness settles close around,
One lone star lends its shy,it's spangles down
And shines it's cloak of eventide so slow,
And treetops lift the moon in black so sweet.

A tail insentient moves the air about
A glint of fog is gay to tryst and bow
‘I give you way to lean and sway the wind'
‘My grey and white will dance and draw again'
Under moon and tempt it's pearly out
And place it's silver on your skin tattow!

A curly-cue of pink flesh is a proper thing;
It spanks the moisture in a blink of proper sounds.
The low moan of white and grey is envious of moon and sun —
Whom on the curly-cue has no visage undone,
But drifts the treetops through and hums a song sing
Elementally so... though out of bounds.


R. Harney