Beso and the Mailman
Beso is tired and old
but will wake up
and travel the pasture
to greet the mailman.
He carefully studies
the mouth of the box being
opened and the hand
feeding it.
I wonder if he remembers
the rum cake
my mother sent to me
last year.
Beso the Helmsman
A tide of gray fog floods
the valley floor.
Iron oaks drink their brew
with the dead and loom.
Beso measures deep waves
lifting pasture, hills,
and hemisphere,
with ancient earth legs.
The world seems unhidden.
We were marched onto this ark
a long time ago —
what was I?
Ask Beso
Are you wonderful?
Ask Beso
what he thinks about
the drinking song
he endured
when he carried you home
last night.
Beso's Dialect
Woud I know
if Beso spoke?
Maybe he has been
conversing with me
in a dialect that he
assumes I understand
because sometimes
I scratch his ears,
fetch the apple,
or leave him alone,
as requested.
Beso Keeps
Overcome by weariness,
Beso keeps to his stall.
One halfhearted ear tracks
hawks passing over the barn.
———————————
Richard Jarrette
Beso the Donkey
Michigan State University Press
