The Calf and the Chaff

In a cowshed, a tiny fence.
In that fence, bags of chaff
And a calf.

The calf played with the chaff, within its enclosure
Kicking up a duststorm
In its tiny world.

Yet
Amidst the fun and games,
The calf
Called out
intermittently
for Mother.

Whenever he called, Mother came running.
The calf looked at Mother through the fence
They both shared a few glances
But soon the calf went back to
Playing with the chaff
While Mother looked on
Longingly
at her
Child’s Play.

The calf played and
Kicked among the bags of feed
His play was futile, chaff was not his food
Yet
He ran around in circles
But when he called for Mother again
She came, again, and watched
Her child’s helpless play.
From across
The freaking fence.

Bound by rules,
I am
Bound to my feet and hands.

I cannot unlock the door.
Please come, Teacher,
Unlock
My shackles.

Let the calf out
Let him enjoy his Mother’s warm embrace
Let the nectar of her milk nourish
This poor,
Ignorant,
Dumb child.

Let the drama end.

P.C. marmax on the ‘bay.
(No, not of pirates. No, not California either.)