Here, on this fast-passing day,
I sing of a land far away
Home to a pack of wild grey goats,
happy and content to eat their oats.
Two goats especially, both sisters and friends,
were joyful and happy, at all the days ends.
They frolicked together, told many jokes,
tried to avoid all the nasty, mean folks,
running to the sanctuary of their mountianous path,
to avoid the nasties' undeserving wrath.
The path was steep, trecherous, and hard to climb,
but they ran for it anyway, time after time.
Unfortunately, fate had it out for the two little beasts,
and a chilling storm blew in from the southeast.
Thunder, lighting, rain and darkness of sky,
obscured the path for the keenest of goatish eye.
And there, on that very day,
one goat fell from the path, and lost her way.
And though she's not returned (doubtful that she will)
atop the mountain, her sister sits still,
bleating with anger, loss, and pain,
but hoping her sister found sheltar from the rain.
Though many years might pass, time turn over many a day,
never will she forget her sister, the goat who lost her way.


Just an ode for my favorite goat. I miss you.

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Aeguary, in the year 315 AF.