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Bring a story home
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Old Bull
I was the champion of this ridge, when my foe heard my bugle, my chuckle, they ran. Some brave ones approached, and I devoured them. My blood, my offspring is all before me. Proud I was. A forever life before me. Spring, summer, fall, winter, they came and and then were gone. Then I learned what time was. Now I am old. The strong young bulls don’t even look upon me, I am feeble and weak, my ivory is gone, for I cannot chew the cud. For I am the old bull, but oh my blood before me, pleased I am.
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