What Might Get My Goat
For several years, I've been a raftsman every summer,
ferrying herds and noisy folks across this gray river
who shout and argue about this body of water.
The goat-like shepherd bleats out loud wisecracking puns;
says "You can never cross same river more than once;
it changes every moment, every swirl, every flow;
may look the same, but its waters come, its currents go;
you float or swim in it, but then whatever you do,
this river's not the one that you crossed a while ago!"
The sheep-like goatherd retorts in a long, screaming leap;
snorts, "That's a shallow view, I've got something really deep;
if the river is the water that drenches your knees,
a dozen rivers can swish by you in just a sneeze;
even when you pause for just a short minute or two,
you're not the one crossing, the rivers are crossing you!"
As long as their banter won't make my raft keel over
and they pay their fare like any decent passenger,
no goatherd or shepherd gets thrown into the river!
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