Robert John Bonney

My eyes rove faces
Can my fear be seen?

This herd is forever bumping
Forever bumping without thought
If a bump was more than needed
Or this morning someone’s grumpy
They grunt but they move
Chewing grass all the while

We accept the bumping
The herd is life

Snout to tail we flow
If movement so slow could be called flow at all
Our hearts pound when we’re flowed to the edge
Til a damp, snorting snout
Guides us back inside

Even for oddities like we
The herd is life, and thus we hope

We hope eyes dulled by hoof-blown dust
Can’t see who we are


If they do
Goodbye wrong-stripes or missing hoof
You stay at the edge and you stay behind
It must be done it will be done

And mercy or sadness or regret?
I imagine with eyes closed
As the dust moves away