Wind Goat - by Karl Meiner

Did I ever tell you, the story of the goat?  

In the backwoods of Forest Park,

A goat was running wild,

Near ten feet long and mean as death

A face just purely vile.

Now here he lived, 

and now here he sinned

This was the goat

Who could ride wind.

Up by a trailhead,

That’s safely concealed 

There runs the Wind Goat

So rarely revealed.

One powerful leap

And into the trees

Knocking down branches 

Every which way he please.

Nothing but danger.

Nothing but woe.

For all the wee runners

Passing below.

Such is his power.

Such is his plan.

To crush all the runners,

Whether woman or man.

He will not be reasoned

He will not be fair

He’ll hide all your Hokas

In his foul-smelling lair.

Like Grendel unleashed 

On your Gore-tex and Gu

The Wind Goat spares none

He will not spare you.

So if in the forest

On the trails you do run,

Look for his shadow

And pray you see none.

For should he find you, 

His fury and wrath

Unleashed with no limits

There on the path.

You may see yourself broken.

Beneath branches you’re pinned.

Helpless before

This goat of the wind.