Red Ox Staring

It stares at you face on,
ox eye to human eye,
and you think of oxeye daisies
and ox blood Doc Martens,
disparate yet related parts of your world.
Like clearwater streams and polluted oceans,
virgin forests and concrete cities.

The ox keeps staring,
its horns at angles,
one pointing to earth, the other to sky,
planet and universe united
in a shaggy redhead,
its pink nose soft and warm,
innocent and unaware of its destiny.