Europa Lv Poem by Morgan Michaels

At the foot of the cliff they found a new-comer: a milkwhite bull of great scale, suggesting almost unimaginable power. That the bull had eye's of amber and gold was nothing. More remarkable, they were kaleidoscopic, seeming to see all and naught. Of their band, the bull took no note, but pawed the sand idly at water's edge, up to its fetlocks in whitish foam and emerald brine. It seemed in no rush to go or retreat. The hot blue of the sky, the rich green of the sea and the milky whiteness of the bull's flank made an intoxicating combo. Each wavelet that slapped the bull's rib-cage washed it pinker and whiter and dreamier than before. Many were the bulls in Phoenicialand, and Europa had seen lots, but never one like this. She wanted the bull to like her, but had nothing with which it might be won. Boldly, she covered the distance between, fearless, because she was a king's daughter. She began to stroke the creature's side as it stared to sea, oblivious of her touch. It mimicked the march of waves by causing rapid quiverings to run beneath its skin, under her hand. She heard its heavy breathing. Did the bull enjoy flowers? Pulling some of these beauties from her hair, she planted them here and there in the bull's tangled mane, which soon became a veritable garden, flecked with specks of yellow, pink and blue, all twinkling splendidly against its snowy hide. It re-paid her efforts with further neglect, cranking its jaws mechanically from time to time as the investiture progressed. Charmed, she became bolder. All seemed well, the bull caught in that peculiar spell of respect between animal and man- a tacit acknowledgement of their trust and co-dependence. Then it nodded and snorted, as if trying to say something. The...