Spring Plowing
I once employed a
borrowed mule
Who took me for a
callow fool.
He was smart and
he was strong,
And his assessment
wasn’t wrong.
A hundred times I’d
seen him plow;
I didn’t doubt
that he knew how,
But he worked
better, he worked faster,
When he labored
for his master.
Cooperative I
thought I’d find him
As I held the
reins behind him,
But his will was
not on loan;
He had ideas of
his own.
It didn’t take me
very long
To see just what
was going wrong.
He had but two
things in his head,
His corn crib and
his sleeping shed.
So at the far end of
the field,
When I said, “haw,”
he smartly wheeled,
But when that mule
was homeward bound
It wore me out to
turn him ‘round.
Every time he
tested me
And drained me of
my energy.
He made certain
that at least
I knew he was a
burdened beast.
For humankind
chalk up a loss.
I never showed him
who was boss,
And when the plow
was lifted free,
I was just as glad
as he.
David Martin