He Kept the Seventh-day Sabbath

My father, Woodrow, had a thing for goats.

When on Canaveral as a boy his dream

Was having them as pets.  Friends wanted boats,

Or guns, or cars.  Young Woody didn’t deem

These trinkets worth consideration.  Nope.

He wanted kids, and nannies, and billies.

It wasn’t that he had this silly hope

Of owning beasts who’d chomp his wife’s lilies,

Or having beasties with an evil eye.

It certainly wasn’t that the critters

Climbed trees to graze leaves, however high,

Nor that they all were ball bearing shitters.

..It was, I think, a part of his desire

….To be quite different—to be a defier.