Why is it in the presence of donkeys, friendships seem ever more precious? I have been observing two donkey friends for a while now and together their comfort in one another seem to simply answer my question to the awe of ordinary attachment.

A Gentle Thought

Each day as I look
To life's painting I see
Gentle Lady and her Thoughtful Pippa
Enjoying life's mystery.
And though they are Donkeys
Their soft approach works for me,
As they stand contemplating
The butterflies and bees.
They are together always
Change the name
And the other's tale is told,
Resident spirits to one another
Each sharing their essence of honesty.
Like a story within a story
They go about doing their
Daily soul's work,
With a Donkey rhythm and pulse
Unheroic, hidden, mysterious,
And sweet.
They are therapy to each other's soul
Like the comfort of home,
With a meaningful life
On a schedule not unlike
That of the moon.
Fond of waxing and waning
But with no irrational longings,
Each one's presence
Evoking a spirit
As the other is looking
For a life of true magic.
They stay steady as they sift
Through a life of devotion,
And they've learned to live wisely
With what the god's give.
Precious stones these two
Friends are to each
Other they tend to
The meaning of safety and
The transport of joy,
Like a stream nourishing a garden
They pour in like Donkey dreams
One to the other.