Sheep on the hill, silent, as the
Day, dark falling
Filling the pools is the swift rain – cruel and nourishing – high hill
Into the night

With the morn,
Hordes of clegs and midges gorge themselves on the sheep
And the humans, they too shall bleed them

No sheep on the hill. No sharp hooves to break up the soil,
Make to flood. Turn to mud.
No hungry teeth eating fresh saplings. So Ash and Lime, Birch and Cherry
And birds, singing on the branches, so merry.
Tree roots embracing the soil, help to stop flooding on the ground
Look anywhere, fragrant wildflowers all around
From tree to flower to tree
The happy Bee

To blame the sheep isn’t fair
The shepherd places them, there and there


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