the golden cattle of the sun

the golden cattle of the sun,
laid down beside quiet waters,
unyoked in rich pastures,
like a vision
of miraculous benignity,
cropping close the fine verdure
of constable,
of gainsborough and poussin,
and of the ever-present past.
how your crowned horns
raise defiance
to the commanding skies!
and how calmly you devour
the goodness of the life-given day,
oblivious to times arrow
that will not be turned away,
but wings toward you
from the far horizon,
where oaks are not,
nor willows grow,
but a jealous god curses you
from beneath
a single desecrated tree.


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