About the sheep

Small white house fence tattered,

most days held in

hundred wooly fluffs graze

as I pass by.

Rosie’s in the road again,

Turn around I stop and knock

dog barks and rushes the door

as a frail old maid steps out.

I speak of the sheep grazing in the ditch

fifty five miles this road they go,

she grabs a stick and herds her in,

be careful of the rams

she says with a grin.

eighty six and going strong,

these are her children,

the Romney herd,

lineage traced with care,

but not a lot of call for them she says,

out of money

and running out of time

she tells me of her simple life

though in a hurry I stay awhile

to listen to the tales she weaves

about these sheep and this life she leads.

Passage of time again I wander by,

smashed car in her drive

windshield shattered,

I pray all is well.

Mattress days later by the road,

no lights on

and no one home

the sheep disappear one day,

a truck backed up to the open gate

and I feel the sadness for the life that had been,

new car now and weeds grow high

no sheep to trim the lawn,

no Rosie in the road,

and I hope she has a flock above,

And that she is with her dear loved dog

and family souls long gone.

The shepherd sleeps in her fathers arms

tending the heavens

with wool and love

and no roads that harm.

Photo credit:  Sheep in the meadow-Dian Bernado



Cloud selfie

Beautiful visions

breathing in the calm

skies lovely in their morning dressing gown

I meditate the moment

breathing softly I exit my car to capture

this perfect sky.

someone calls my name and I turn

the moment will wait,

colors will last

I turn back to my task

hold the camera up

little cloud intrudes

my bit of loveliness marred

by the cloud selfie

introducing itself

saying how do you do

look at me

look at me.