Sunday, June 10, 2007


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


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home