Thursday, September 16, 2010

The Dirge of the Cattle

In an ancient Irish text
The fearsome, warrior goddess
Aife's one son,
A boy born of mortal blood,
Fell in battle.

In honor of his passing
No calf in Ulster
Was let go to its mother
For the space of three days.

I read that and recalled weaning.
Heard the cattle in my mind.
Night and day, sleeping, waking,
Out there bawling.

I fitting.
A good cow country dirge
For the untimely death
Of a native son.

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