A Midsummer's Eve in Bosnia


With limited numbers long ears approaches short.
Normal short observes malformed long and
bellows his warning.
But still they are coming.
Long, incensed by that short freak's positioning
prepares and,
head down, spears thrust forth,
sets to charge it into the ground.

Weapons clashing and trumpets blaring
neither side will yield.
Both want the other dead
and all around are their fallen kindred.

Hideously gored this mammoth genus battles.
With massive feet they stamp and crush
everything in their path.
Why can't peace last ?
Their blood flows down runnels on their hide and
congeals on the parched plain.
Their fallen friends will never stand again.

And still they persist and try to win,
but the day is already lost.
The have committed the deadly sin and,
in dying,
are paying the ultimate cost.