Poem: Along The Road

Along The Road

We saw hills
and a river
we could not name
and cows and horses
and goats, though
I do not think
any goat we saw
was named Buster Brown,
like one of those goats
we didn't see
outside last night's restaurant 
was said to be called.
I wonder if he knows
that is his name,
if he hears it
and bounces over
or bleets in response.
I have never known a goat,
not well enough, at least,
to use its name
and expect a response.

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