\They had seen the lean tall fellow with the .22 on his back from quite a ways away. This was due to the bright orange safety vest, very tattered and flaking now that they had ridden closer, that the man was wearing atop his battered, colourless workalls.
They surrounded him, four horsemounted, hatted men. Behind the fellow, who wore a long and stylish mustache atop his thickly curled face, Gregory unslung his rifle. The rest of them already had
guns in their hands.\
\he tells them of his watching of the goats/
/his time in the hills, dreaming of the future/
/planning for it/
/watching the long slow life of the steppes/
/and dreaming of ways to fit Man back in/
/they are surprised/
/and eat goat with him that night/
/one of them stays at the cave, farewelling and goodbyeing/
/there is no rancour, it is very odd/
\the strange plants glow in the night, wishing silent vegetable incomprehensible thoughts while silver bugs ride their veins drinking moonlight/
the others rode on in the morning \
thinking on what the old man has told them \
of the Mother's concern \
for all life/
of the great ice/
She is bringing to shield us \
from the great storms of space/
still, he explained/
it was worth watching the goats \
it was always worth watching the goats \
and they had agreed, wondering/
wiping fat from their hairy chins/
in the flickering firelight \
by the old man's cave \
2009 Peter Greene.
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