Sheep

A flock is founded on fear,

seeing all, but afraid 

of a shadow, and so a sheep

will always seek the light

of higher ground. 

The ewe bowed to hillside,

her tender face nursed

by steep pasture, where a lamb,

too, seems to embrace the gift

of Spring, as if they were both

suspended in the history 

of an Arcadian fantasy. 
 

Yet there are dips, smit and

lug marks, shears and pens

and dogs, there are lost sheep

and black sheep and poems

about the arts of shepherds.

To a sheep, modernity

must just seem to be

yet another sacrifice,

where, it is, at times,

the only wisdom to obey.

And a sheep knows 

that there is no Golden Fleece,

but trickery and a cheat,

that means, often, do not justify

the ends. A sheep knows

that many things can be a wolf -

and they are quiet in their pain, 

they will bleat alone. A sheep knows

that there is the grass and forb

of heft, to sense and shape 

a landscape in the way

our words feel and form the world.

Image is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Greenhill,_John_-_A_Lady_as_a_Shepherdess_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg

And on Twitter: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Van_Gogh_-_Shepherd_with_a_Flock_of_Sheep.jpg

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Eugene_Verboeckhoven_-_Landscape_with_Sheep_-_1933-1-1_-_Auckland_Art_Gallery.jpg