Earth Ox Year
Hail, to the herd instinct moving us
in unison through winter's thick and thin
over razors edge between this or that crest.
One-pointed focus tames brute force
of cloven hoofs to the grindstone, heads
bowed intently with nostrils flared—
our horns poised to strike the bullwork of obstacles
shored up against realization or imagined enemies.
For, we are the earth-movers,
who graze with ease among sticks and stones
where nothing grows
except a sweet determination