In Bevagna, I ran with cats
through the parks and fields,
quietly giggling to myself until
one sickly creature cried out
from the cool, November breeze.
She was wild and hurt, not
likely to survive, and I didn't
know anyone to help her.
I sat with her until she stopped,
knowing she would cry again
when I was on my train, for once
knowing how it feels to be a man.
No comments:
Post a Comment