At Loose Poem by Stug Jordan

When can we be lazy?
like two dogs, with eyes half open;
stretching our legs through the grass,
laying; getting almost nothing done.

We can stab through leaves
with our long legs, noses in the bush;
as happy as a pair of ponies,
released like birds into a muddy field.

Should we complicate the sounds
of the farm with our voices?
like two old cockerels, throwing up songs;
as free as if our wings could fly all day.

Where shall we sleep tonight?
huddled together like mice in a hole;
unobserved by the curious winds
that rattle above our heads in the night.