Late night visitors from churchyard

On locking the next door church tonight startled to find two donkeys browsing – very happy to be able to return them to their lovely tearoom home (Rocke Cottage). Lucky and Denzil are rescues so here, for their kind owner, is my donkey poem written after a visit to another rescue donkey:

Donkey

‘Dusty is 18 years old and worried about his weight so please could you not feed him. Dusty was a seaside donkey at Weston-Super-Mare which is why he has a number on his back.’

 

Arse end to the visitors he stands,

one depressed donkey.   He half turns his head,

and through his whiskers whispers:

‘I miss the sea, the hiss and sucking sound,

I miss treading sand wet with rain, miss

the company of other asses, chances

to steal  ice cream and salty chips.

I miss the chance to make

hard-heeled children

squeal. I am 96,

named on my

flank under

the cross

I bear.’

He rubs his stubbly neck against the rail,

slightly lifts his ragged tail and delivers

one   two    three    four ……… five

steaming spheres.           Such eloquence.