The Donkey

The Donkey

Pausing, to ponder a prickly weed,
the donkey nuzzles his jowl in the brush,
sniffling, snuffling, blithering.
He knows the load on his back and withers -

Distance to travel, progress
slow, step, a mark in a book;
eyes blank, wide, he knows
the rut and ditch, grammatical glitch.

And he chews and he mulls the ways
that wind through whiteboard slabs
and mounds of scrawled on paper.
Slow, steps, sure as the lunch time bell.

His long ears pricked, hock and knee -
braying idiot: listening, watching.
Easily surprised, he stops –
to nuzzle his jowl in the brush.