Christmas calf

I happen to glimpse it
before the parade

plodding along
behind glitter-bright floats
and antique cars
and draft horses
hitched to a buggy, stomping
their silky feathered feet

a lone calf
wearing a Santa hat
and a red gingham wrap
decorated with tinsel.

Something in its demeanor
makes me pause.

I think it’s humility.

Head bowed
in its bright-red halter

being led
to take its place
on the hay-strewn float
sponsored by its stable.

I watch the calf
standing, waiting
(for what, it must have wondered
or maybe it didn’t question at all,
but only trusted)

and I remember phrases
in a book I loved
when I was a child:
the sweet breath of patient cows

a sort of peaceful smell as though
nothing bad could happen
ever again in the world

and that’s exactly the feeling I get
for one fleeting moment
looking at this Christmas calf

standing completely at peace
in what surely must seem
chaos, cacophony,
and absurd carnival color.

And so I step over
just before the parade

to absorb its calm
to look into its big, gentle eyes
to read its docile expression.

He lets me pet him
and scratch behind
his big black ear

his hair is thick
like a rug

he is warm
so warm

—You are beautiful,
I say.

The Christmas calf
so still
and sweet

gives me an almost
imperceptible nod

his two tiny horns
poking through his Santa cap

not knowing
the simple
pure and deep
sense of reverence
he somehow imparts.

I cannot help thinking,
Lord, let me be
as good
and uncomplaining
and patient
a creature.

*******
Such a gentle calf. The owners invited me to pet him.
He is a year old.

with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the weekly Slice of Life Writing Challenge