Feeding the Sheep

Horns butting bucket,

crowding gutters

split in half lengthways,

makeshift feeding trays.

Old, dead wool in tatters,

worn skirts dragging

round brown legs.

Cloven feet

rushing headlong

to foaling stables

long past use-by-date.

Low sky, setting sun,

last light for Soay sheep

till tomorrow comes,

bringing feed and

cloud, or maybe sun,

over muddy fields.

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