TWO WOUNDED BUFFALOES

Two wounded buffaloes
Met on the moors;
Seething and limping but
Their resolve so sure.
So what; if each had fought?
A win is reflected in stance; not the battle.
Staring at each other, they poise,
in defence to charge; but
broken horn, torn skin tells it all.
“I know not about your fight; but
Perhaps if we held still, and
Listened to the air
Our seething might stop;
Our wounds begin to heal;
And we shall go our ways,
Happy, healed, and wiser.
The moors are wide, but one day,
We chance to meet again”.

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