THE DONKEY'S EAR

I've been talking into the ear of a donkey.
I have so much to say, and the donkey can't wait
To feel my breath stirring the immense oats
Of his ears. "What has happened to the spring,"
I say, "and our legs that were so joyful
In the bobblings of April? I do feel teenier
As if some taut giant, once at the center
Of things, had moved to Sweden. Am I an ant
Struggling to lift a dark barn
Off its base? Am I changing my road
So that I can play with the old moonlight
Once more, and be what I once was, a lover
Whispering, struggling to catch fur in my hands
So I can lift my lips closer to the donkey's ear?

From "Beatrice and Virgil" by Yann Martel

"I noticed that a donkey has an appealing terrestrial solidity - it's a good, solid animal -yet its limbs are surprisingly slim. It's as firmly yet lithely connected to the earth as a birch tree. And such lovely, round, compact hooves. And the legs tuck direcdtly under the animal when it's standing still. When it's walking, the stride is dainty and short-stepped. The proportions of the head - the slim ears, the dark eyes, the nose, the mouth, the length of the snout - are very satisfying. The lips are strong and agile. The crunching and grinding sound a donkey makes when it's eating is very soothing to listen to. And its braying is as frank and tragic as a sob."