I wrote this poem as a much younger man. It is more relevant now that I am considerably older. I have included
D.H. Lawrence's 'forbidden painting' that served as inspiration.
Goat Song
The old goat sighed, lifting first one hoof then another over the remains of the seasons. He had tried
to invoke a world, embody his words.
And yes, spring summer fall winter took form, wheeled in cycles and everywhere the plants and little
animals rejoiced, colors and music floated through the leaves, browns, and greens became a medley of
sound in the half-light, became wind and in the midst of all stood a man and a woman, opening
themselves like flowers to each other, and his words made mountains and streams, the whurling bark
of trees traced vowels and consonants, roots plunged deep into pure sound.
Then a scream shattered the scene.
And what remained?
An old goat and his song.
The leaves of autumn light the ground.