the butterfly and the ox , travelling

he was born with nearby
eyes for green
just a step
to the left and sat
his hoof
where sat a zebrafly. she twirls
up and out, finds hoof's zip
flowes to nostril
tip of horn eye
lash of breath.
up ahead his
goal, snatching
clumps along
the way.

he says why should i give you
my secrets. she says because
the wind wants to know.

in his ear her probe
feeds on memory
she dances all around
as he steady so
steadily

but his eyes move
with curves of her wings
a pole or a breeze
around which she sings.

sometimes, he recognises his song.


they move this way for eons
the sun across sky
sun against water
turning the manger autumnal
and gleaming. the amber tree
hangs beside and ablove

under the eaves
his horns a sort of crown
under the leaves
she hangs upside down