Sonnetella for a Goat
The day seemed quiet, not a sound.
I stepped outside to watch a goat pass by,
the focus of his vision toward the ground.
I sensed that he was lonely, even shy;
for as he trod his head hung really low.
I asked him if he'd join me for some tea,
it seemed he had no other place to go.
If chamomile was to his like 'twas free.
I insisted he wash up and wear a blouse --
indignant he got up and left the house.
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