Llama Trauma

A Fall Day at MVF

A poem by Dave Reaney.

Matt was on the phone--he had something to say
about music, computers or ordering hay
Then out by the barn came a boisterous shout,
Sara was yelling, "the Llamas are out!"
AND MATTHEW KEPT ON TALKING.

The source of the trouble can be blamed onto Kate
When fixing the pump, she left open the gate.
In the pasture the broodmares were standing in awe,
as if frozen in time by the apparition they saw
AND MATTHEW KEPT ON TALKING.

Kate, David and Sara, together those three
attempted to foil the Llamas' urge to be free.
Across the back pasture, the critters did run,
avoiding the humans was whole lot of fun.
AND MATTHEW KEPT ON TALKING.

In the south paddocks, Dave R. learned a truth most profound,
that only two Llamas can get horses racing around.
In two, three, and four, the equines were bolting,
while over in one, Ben's babies verged on revolting.
AND MATTHEW KEPT ON TALKING.

And back on the north side where the Llamas still strayed,
the area was shrinking, the land where they played.
David blocked a roadway, the ladies were driving,
Dave R. blocked a path for which the Llamas were striving.
AND MATTHEW KEPT ON TALKING.

At last for the Llamas there was no place to run,
but back to their own pen---son of a gun!
Panting, their chasers all laughed with relief.
that their animal friends had not come to grief.
And through it all--MATTHEW KEPT ON TALKING!