Saturday, 7 August 2010

In Golders Hill Park

I am the not-so-Greater Rhea, cousin to the ostrich and emu.
With flightless wings I’m grounded here in Golders Hill Park.
My legs, which out ran the cougar, now seem ridiculous stilts.
Ashamed I hide them away beneath my grubby-grey breast.
I lay my head down on the mown grass and hope to dream
Of the wild pampas before the farmers came.
But instead of hooves, horses of the mad gauchos and their cattle,
I hear the shuffle of another lost like me but nearly home.

1 comment:

  1. Nice poem, GC, says Jaffa. But make sure those fast running 'cougars' don't get you. In your case, as a 'guesstimate', I would say they would be about 80 years old. still, I suppose the park is as good a place as as any to run into them.

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What do you think? GC