At least she had th’ good grace not to belabour
a point made with grandiloquence, you weren’t
at the gate - so I didn’t delay progress awaiting
your indolence to redress itself - made my way
where the track branches left and away; yes - I
know my way around the place - but I can’t say
I’m pleased to see you, unless you’ve a pocket
full of apples - which from experience I’d doubt
In her reasoning there’s heavy clout - & yes I’d
slept in - first time in ages, altho I don’t see her
at the gate every day either; but it matters not -
she’d been there, left hoof prints clearly - even
gate-nudged a bit as if to say bah, and humph,
etc, then left for obviously greener pastures
Least she accepted my apologies tho deigned
to agree Kookaburras don’t censure like she’d
made into an Oscar winning accolade; I said -
they simply wait on th’ clothesline until there’s
movement in the house - & its called patience
Your Grace; she articulates whinny harrumph
Mate, gate-waiting’s for horses - not Royalty!
© 22 June 2016, I. D. Carswell
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