While crossing the Snoqualmie River
by Herbert Nehrlich
on foot near frosty Holtershausen,
a settlement of faithful Amish
was milking cows in drafty barns.
A gust of wind whipped through my hair,
dislodging particles of ice.
I heard a voice, was it a child?
From waters rushing through the weir.
It was a tiny, little creature,
hopelessly trapped inside debris
of branches. Inches from the drop.
'You stupid thing', I yelled in silence,
'What makes you struggle for your life,
only to groom yourself for Death
to sweep you into true oblivion.'
A Saanen goat, they call it 'kid'
at that young age, now almost free
of cumbersome entanglements,
had only instinct and no brain.
Well, jumping in was quick and simple,
the splash had scared her even more.
And when I reached the snow white thing
it was too late, and we went over.
She clung to me with trembling arms,
I clung to her to keep my prize.
We landed, soft on snowy shores
and rushed across an icy field,
to find a farm to get us warm.
Dried by the fireplace inside,
the kid and me, it took some time,
then introduced her to her Mama,
a silver goat with steel-blue eyes.
Now re-united, dropping pebbles,
a sign of happiness it is,
the Mama butted me with pleasure,
then turned around and smacked with purpose
onto my face, it was quite sloppy,
and smelled of strange exotic plants,
thus through this rather shocking gesture
sealed the adventure with a kiss.