Bull Poem by Cin Sweet

80 years since and hence
from a ringing bell
uncorked, mind set free
dressed in hard knuckled thread
stiff and ketchup red
bull and tree and said
scampering up the armored thighs
for change
for peace
freedom could ring for thee
or simple tale and wit
simply for the art of it
like catching a fallen Leaf

young fruit there
playing, tiny schoolyard games
giant little ears
twisting up to hear
growing and green
scrawny and piddling
teetering on the edge
of Lawson's buzzing bee
painted handsome bull
printed pretty flowers
the tiny busy fingers traced
then clutching a raft pillow
sinking off to nap sleep

ah, the tallying gear
it is eternally turning
not noticing is the fumbling
wasting of them
the tumbling treble years
spent like silver coins
stacked pinball quarters
peering past a sunrise setting
forgetting all the picadors
crowds, weeping matadors
oh, the contrasts, Munro
simplicity of the flower's breath
freedom of the needing less

now is my open window
horns honks and trucks
sound of city clucks, pigeon ducks
deadlines and sprinting clocks
need there needing want
hurrying and speeding
quickly off to never being done
oh, greetings dear Ferdinand
teacher of the simply done
hours of your fragrant flowers
cork trees, pastures, bull and sun
so sorry I misplaced you friend
swear it, I never shall again.