Talking Bull

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Taking the road to the shore
I pass two of the senior bulls
(On our island full of bulls)
The elder statesmen of the
Celebrated cattle of Luing.

They move neither to left nor right.
Pay no heed to traffic nor footfall.
I can walk right up to the great heads.
Only the eyes swivel my way.
Watchful, weighty.

How are you doing? (I say).
No answer. Although I’m left with
the impression of a stern response.
I don’t suppose much bothers them.
How could it?

Returning from the cafe
I pass the two leviathans.
They stand, seemingly unmoved.
And I realise I have spent the whole morning
Talking bull.

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