Orphan Lamb
By Jane Hyphen
- 1211 reads
Who will save the orphan lamb?
Shivered bleats, wet crease
Skinny back, mucus neck
Coated shine, ewe’s juice
Pleads just like a baby
In a stubbly heathered roost
It stands against the odds
Buckled legs, strong sticks
For seconds then it folds
White minim on a mound
Nothing, no-one, nothing
Around for miles
Not all are mothers
Cells divide and thrive
Flesh distinct or perhaps
Were twins but milk
Just enough for one
When winter’s late and hard
The flock is dots
Upon a hillside far away
Trammel life’s design
Or let nature take its cause?
In hands it lives and thrives
In hands upon another day to die
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Comments
I suppose a number of the
I suppose a number of the hill-born lambs will be lost, but so many do seem to survive despite harsh weather, and sometimes efforts of the farmers to go out searching. Have you seen these blue plastic 'aprons' some of the lambs are wearing now out in the fields? We were puzzled but I googled about it, and it seems it protects them during those first few hours outside and discourages the foxes from attacking them too. The did look odd. Rhiannon
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terrible to be so tiny, wet
terrible to be so tiny, wet and fragile, arrived with such struggle and then left to die alone in the cold without comfort. You did all you could.
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Great nature poem, you make
Great nature poem, you make me aware of the orphan lamb. Because of the time of year I also read this poem of the lamb on the hillside as perhaps having an additional 'Easter' meaning...
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