Herding

Cycling along a Yorkshire lane
where the summer grasses graced the verge in a froth of seedheads
I chanced upon the sheep.

Five beasts with brains as woollen as their backs
fled as a flock along the road before me,
demonstrating with fluid practised moves
the instinctive art of synchronised stupidity.

There were no turnings, no gateways,
only the narrow hedge-rimmed verges
so they ran and ran and ran in terror of perceived pursuit.

And when I got to where I was going
I returned to find them once again,
and - unwittingly - chased
as they - dimwittingly - ran
the whole course again.

I wondered how often we,
like sheep, exhaust ourselves
with fleeing from the things that cause us fear
from loneliness,
from memories,
from anxieties,
from haunting thoughts.

Perhaps we should stop on the verge side now and then,
letting the monsters draw nearer
in the hope that if we stand calm and fearless as they come
they will pass us by
...this time.

(c) A McN