(The Two Godlike Bulls of the Cloud Forest)

Yoked together for hours, perhaps days
Los Dos Dios Toros stand stock-still,
Dark brown, solid, omnipotent,
Fastened to each other
With wooden yoke and abandoned plow.
They wait for a human
To steer them through difficult soil
It does not occur to them they can till
The remainder of the field
Of their own accord.

I watch them for hours, staring
As sweet mists roll, in and out of
The Cloud Forest of Rumi Nuñurco
Barely noticeable, the toros pull on each other,
When they feel like it
The one on the left, the one I favor
Is in charge, maybe
No, the right one is heaving
A minuscule exhalation, infinitesimal.

In the drizzly balmy air
The left one lowers his massive head
Into the sepia black dirt, intoxicated,
He smells the uneaten hairy
Spiders and finger thick worms
Breathe their way up to the cloudy peak
Where waxy wine red
Bromeliads, suspended off rocks
Drink the high mountain air
In religious reverie.

I forget to watch
When the Dual Crowned Toros,
Step out of serfdom
And turn a quarter of a turn
A Los Dos Dios Toros turn,
So swiftly, I forget to watch
When for a moment
They touch hidden tufts
Of glorious green grass
I had not noticed before.