Colcannon [oldie but a goodie]

We broke bread at dawn

Cold and shivering

Faces dirty, hearts weary

the kettle boiling over

a dying fire

tea meant to soothe

our bones and joints aching

a bubbling soup hits our

nauseous bellies and

we fight to keep the swill down

covered in grease from that

horse we had to put down yesterday

war is no place for a noble beast

but man feels right at home

at first. and then he longs

for his own hearth

the wooden floors muddy

with boot and paw prints

ears burning from the

wife’s incessant nagging

and the fresh scent of

laundry set out to dry

left overnight. again.

the grunt of the pigs

digging in the slop.

Slop far more agreeable than

this soup.

And that trusty steed alone in the stable.

But a fence has no business caging

a noble beast.

A man feels right at home. At first.

But then he longs for those nights of his

youth.

The girls, the wine, the merriment.

The friends, long gone in some war.

Perhaps this one.

No one to answer to but his dog

His own two legs carry him everywhere

Free, free is the only place for a noble beast

But a man is no horse.

Though he is a beast.

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