Classic Poem

It is in captivity —
ringed, haltered, chained
to a drag
the bull is godlike

Unlike the cows
he lives alone, nozzles
the sweet grass gingerly
to pass the time away

He kneels, lies down
and stretching out
a foreleg licks himself
about the hoof

then stays
with half-closed eyes,
Olympian commentary on
the bright passage of days.

— The round sun
smooths his lacquer
through
the glossy pinetrees

his substance hard
as ivory or glass —
through which the wind
yet plays —
Milkless

he nods
the hair between his horns
and eyes matted
with hyacinthine curls