This was submitted by a reader. I liked it.

Feeding the Goat

For days I have been
crushed with sadness
marriage gone wrong
my heart a cracked nut;
the future shade
and the winter store
together gone at once.

Today, the road from a friend’s
was blocked by a goat;
a tall white two horned goat
tied on a taut rope
twisted of red and black plastic
and too low to drive under
Stopping, I tugged
and the goat resisted
straining forward to browse
the high weeds of the ditch
so I stood in the sunlight,
pulled bunches of weedy grass -
the kind that puts up seedheads
that look like broken crosses
and smells like summer -
carried them to the opposite verge
the goat followed
and suddenly, out of nowhere,
I was free.