Whinny and Spit

Whinny and Spit

 
When a man’s young,
the work’s hard
but it pays well
and he can feed
the wife and kids.
 
Mornings he throws 
crates off trucks,
and after lunch he
throws crates again.
But as he grows older,

and some say
ready to retire,
he stops
in mid-afternoon,
mounts his throne 

of skids, lets
his legs drip
over the side,
tosses his head,
whinnies and spits.


Donal Mahoney
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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