The Day the Mules Came

'Twas a cool autumn mornin' and up by the house,

The cats were all purrin'; one was eatin' a mouse.

The sun started risin' and warmin' my hair,

I knew in a while no more frost would be there.

Bo lay in his corner; I stood on the mat;

We just settled down for a brief sunrise nap.

When what to my wonderin' eyes did appear,

But the sun on the trees and some deer with loooong ears.

Bo sprang to his feet to see what was the matter,

I sped to the fence to see why they looked fatter…

Instead of sleek fellas with perky white tails

These deer looked like Belgians; a breed of land whales.

The frosty stray soybeans that the harvester missed

Just melted like butter between their thick lips.

With every slow step their huge hooves made thunder;

"How much do they weigh?? And where'd they come from?" I wondered.

 

They sported beige fur and no mane from ears to withers;

Their muscles all bulged and their ankles had feathers.

Their legs were like tree trunks; they all had a 'donkey' look;

Their rabbit-ears swiveled and flapped when they shook.

"Mules," whispered Bo, "from a donkey and horse,"

And I saw the resemblance of each one, of course.

"I once knew a donkey in Texas," I said,

Then Bo's eyes diverted and he raised up his head.

Our person came out with a smile and whistle;

They were ready to run but she backed up in a hustle.

Approach and retreat; then they just hesitated:

Seven, I counted, and their fears were abated.

The shake of a grain bucket and in through a gate

Came 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8. [inludin' our person – count 'em]

Mules safely contained; then our person went out

To see if some more might be wanderin' about.

No one that we knew had a mule team, but wait –

The Amish folk over the hill had eight.

No phone call to make as they have no such thing;

She drove up to ask if their mules were mis-sing.

Soon they came down with their buggy and horse;

Dad, Mom, Junior, and some bridles of course.

Home they went walkin'; first three, 4 remained;

Soon all seven were back at their own farm again.

Happy Holidays from P-pot the Poet

closer