atholl

i could be nothing at all
if not a shepherd
i can see the rolly sheep, like salt water taffy with legs,
and pink as newborns, i’ve taken them back
to the barn and shaved them down
but i’m worried, they’re naked and it’s begun to rain
they’re not folling their fat bodies on the grass
they’re watching me in quiet discomfort

shall i lead you all to the shelter of the widest tree i know?
shall i make the journey to the shed, keep you tight together?
shall i knit you little sweaters with your own coats?

i’ll lift a lamb, lower it onto my shoulders,
i’ll lead you all, hum snippets of bagpipe tunes,
stroke the lamb, keep up, keep on.