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Poem

In the bitter cold of the foggy dawn
Their heels I hear on the hard grounds below
Yet another day to work it all 
And the master gets to keep all the pay
As obedient as they may
They head to where the heavy cart stays
Drums filled with pales of water
All day they pull this way and that way
Carts filled with heavy construction materials
Every day they pull this way and that way
Whether it rains or shines
Everyday there is load to be pulled away
Theirs is work bound by fate
Perhaps a purpose to which they were made
Perhaps a punishment of which they must pay
But what gives me a little comfort
Is that even they after a whole day of toil and pain
Even they get to spend some time away from the misery of the day
Even they get to dream of better days when heaven will employ their grace
The night is truly divine
For it offers my kindly donkeys an escape from the brutality of hard days without pay
The night offers my kindly donkeys escape from their enslaved ways

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