Master For A Day

His beloved water buffalo--
The carabao, knelt down low, so low
I could sit on its back, like I would
The top of my toy truck...playfully--
To ride the wind--homeward, or wherever
He wanted to go--north, south...
Through a grassy road lined with trees
Of star apple, jackfruit, bamboo and birch.

True lord of the beast,
He held in his heart and hand--the rein
Much stronger than the enthwined hemp,
While all the while talking--
In some kind of vernacular anthem.

One early week-end morning in May,
I found myself, reluctantly--"master for a day."
"Go tend to the carabao for me, today--
In that hill-top pasture by the sea," he told me.
But--aghast, gad so! Much as I tried to do
My best, the "beast of burden," hated my company,
No matter how I sounded and acted--friendly.