The oxen at night

A faith’s embers burn within us
As in the poet’s Victorian gloom.

Oxen are night’s meek creatures
In their stew of straw and urine

In tail swishing of sleepless flies.
Gloom sits yet at twelve of clock

Awaiting the paper star to shine.
A few drones appear in a desert

A peace offering by far off men,
Ever lasting peace for strangers.

(Reference is to Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Oxen”)

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This entry was posted in poems.

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