I Don't Taste Good

I DON’T TASTE GOOD
July 8, 2006


“Look out!” I shout
both day and night
at leisure hooves
alive in flight.

I worry they will
trample me;
a yellow weed,
“Please let me be.”

They gallop, canter,
trot and pace
and kick up dirt
that sprays my face.

They flail and stomp
and buck and rear.
I duck and sway
when they get near.

Here comes a shadow
dare I look?
The horse is heading
for the brook

but not to drink;
he spies my knee!
“I DON’T TASTE GOOD!
PLEASE DON’T EAT ME!”