26 Oct 2015 – Calf

Some fine young veal, a choice cut to behold –
forbidden to us marbled and, well, old.

A happy, skipping calf, here in our midst.
Too tired we are to contemplate a tryst.

In glory days, no thought but mount her mom,
but now those days of glory are long gone.

We contemplate our coming fashion splash
in belts and boots, in wallets and in hats.