Goats were left on an island
by the conquistadors
shining in argent splendor
with other places to sail
The hills were harsh; shrubs
and dry patches of grass
as the livestock grazed
on strange ground, sensing a savage wind.
They were used to hearing
hinged gates, heaved pails of water
or grain, a woman's skirt ripping
on the garden briar. A soldier's boot
broadcast loudly on deck.
Scimitared but scavenging,
the horned species seemed lost, stripped
of their wild instincts through husbandry
and time. Yet, when the mist rolled in
and revealed the pale daughters
of the Galapagos sea, long fingers combed
through their matted hair -- separating
the fragile from the feral,
casting grim into the grace
of survival. Hand maidens who untangled
their skein of storm.
Pastel artwork is called, "Girls Combing The Beards Of Goats", by Richard Doyle.