Sheep
Sometimes they're out and about
on the edge of the woodland
sometimes they're not
in early winter
they take the last few bites
of the grass that's left
with their heads down
a flock of sheep
the horns on their heads gently harms
the skin of the earth
the sheep are scrambling
the marching order is a little chaotic
the shepherd woman begins to yell
the field of vision is not wide open
i can still see the gray wolfhound
staring majestically under the poplar tree that's lost its leaves
suddenly it snarls and runs towards the rattled flock
suddenly the swollen formation shrinks
the status quo was quickly restored
and the shepherdess, the dog and the sheep began
another round of silence.
Comments
Post a Comment