i am a shepherd

Tama66 via pixabay.com

and these are my sheep, playing,
prancing ‘cross this white meadow
reaching their bony faces into warm and sunny brightness
they feel it on their wool, their hair, their skin,

see them stretching, preening

they gather in
drifts and tangles, playing funny games
while this one creeps into the bushes and
that one hides in the shade beneath the trees

i must seek them out,
bring them back, let them frolic and leap,
shudder and romp and sweep in waves across the page

it is my task to sort them, shifting the
tide and
guiding, around the rocks and
across the sand

what sand?
this is a meadow
once white like snow, now inscribed

these little hoofprints, the marks they leave behind
i am a shepherd and

these are my sheep
telling their woolly tales
and dancing.