Palm Sunday Donkeys

A bright but very cold Palm Sunday morning. Four donkeys, two dark, one light and one white were having their breakfast framed by fresh hawthorn leaves at the horse sanctuary south of our property as Ollie and I went for our early walk. I always think of GK Chesterton's poem when I see donkeys. It was particularly appropriate today.

When fishes flew and forests walked
   And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
   Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
   And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
   On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
   Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
   I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
   One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
   And palms before my feet.