After th’ sun-up debacle Her Grace stated her
inimitable case; there’s no way you’re going t’
keep me out of th’ bottom paddock - three, or
more, apples-a-day can’t begin to expiate that
unilaterally lousy declaration: but, wait, I reply -
I’m not th' ruling party, My Ladyship makes all
gate-opening decisions - and I don’t mind you
being there, these days I don’t drive anywhere
Gate accessibility doesn’t agitate me; well OK,
that’s good, she replies, so hop out o’ my way
and I’ll wander by to see what the feed is like,
and there our discourse ended: - but the irony
remains starkly embedded in the fact she had
seen how easy it would be t’ manipulate us, if
she expressed Winter supplementation needs;
and yet, when I go t’ see how she’s coping, no
steed evident, with no signs o’ her leaving new
mounds - she’s thus migrated back up the hill,
content no-doubt the gate-access conundrum
per se, has been amended successfully again
© 10 July 2018, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment