It’s good to be back to the singing peace of my village
after having spent days in the capital Lisbon
eating restaurant food drinking too much wine,
wearing suit and tie and being city polite.
Here I can be nice without having to say something smart
except to Johanna’s donkey that takes offense
and tries to kick me if I don’t give it slices of loaf
and shout insincere words into its hairy purse like ears.
The ass, an old Jenny, is going feral now that it’s unemployed
since Johanna bought a little red tractor-
the jenny going deaf too and has arthritis in the front left knee
and that makes her bad tempered
especially on overcast, damp days (the donkey, not Johanna).
The old beast is 18 and that a fair age for a working donkey
and a less caring owner would have sent it to the knacker’s yard long ago,
but as Johanna says when the tractor breaks down,
after all it’s only a mechanical thing,
then the old animal can come in handy,
not for ploughing but for carrying things on its unwilling back
such as firewood from the outfield to the barn.
This moment however,
my thoughts are not animal friendly
the foul tempered creature has gotten into my garden
and is eating flowers that now are coming into bloom
and its bloodshot eyes makes it clear that I better stay away.
Yes, it’s nice to be back where animals are not circus trained
we needn’t a bloody war to keep us entertained.