A pig in clean mud
With its tail curled up tight
Tidying up
To prepare for the night
The gruel will be plenty
And boars will be there
The gilt’s almost ready
To release all her cares
A few simple trots
And the party begins
She’s greeted with oinks
And with snorts and with grins
They mingle all night
In the sty they call home
Before the Sun comes
And they fry all alone
A Life in Poems 