Poet’s Corner: Love and a Goat

This morning I joined a group of Mexican friends for pajarete, a local morning drink of goat’s milk. We gathered around the small pick-up truck of the goat herder; and he milks one of his seven ladies directly into your coffee mug, which you can jazz up with cocoa, rum or moonshine (95%), tequila with sticks of cinnamon, Kahlua, and several other unspeakable spices that will flame you up nicely. Carlos said, “Cuidado, Wes”.  Anytime a Mexican warns me about a spice, I pay attention. 

You stand around and gab– I had a second mug, this time loaded with a shot of moonshine.  It was very smooth. I’ll never do it again as I loathe drinking in the morning. I did make pals with a goat, although I don’t remember her name. 

I noticed the young goatherder getting familiar with a young lady, and that is how silly poems are made.  Here is the poem:

Love and a Goat

A small goat
nibbling a potted plant
upon a moment stolen
from her owner, who was
driven to distraction
by the soft hands
of the plant owner
who was, in turn,
distracted by the strong hands
of the soulful goatherder
which had dropped
the cracked goat halter
while seeking softer hands.

His beard brushing
the rapidly disappearing leaves,
the sharp-eyed goat
makes haste
because he knows
how fleeting is true love.

………….. by Wes Parker, January 2023