I’m the little black sheep
of he family,
all the other sheep,
are white, you see;
and when it rains, it rains on me,
much more than them –
as far as I can see.
White on green
under blue with white and grey.
.
A gull flies right to left
with plenty to say,
and, when it’s gone,
I feel bereft.
Black clouds on the horizon,
smaller white clouds in the fields;
where are the shepherds that will wash their flocks,
watch their socks,
watch and wash their flocks and socks,
go sailing by
on Christmas Eve
in the morning?
A quiet Sunday morning walk,
with just the sound of flittering birds,
as the dogs and I traverse the country lanes.
Further on, the cry of new-born lambs
from a field, a distance away,
that is dotted with many off-white clouds of fleece.
Other fields have grazing cows,
quieter in their ruminations,
while yet others are carpeted with growing crops of an unknown type.
Two horses freely digest their findings,
conversing sparingly with their neighbours, another herd of grazing cows.
I tip my hat to the morning,
and offer thanks
M: I can count on ewe, can’t I?
S: Ewe can.
M: Good: one…
S: ‘One’ what?
M: I was counting on ewe.
S: And ewe counted up to one?
M: Yes. To get to sleep.
S: Are ewe asleep yet?
M: I don’t think so.
S: Ewe could be dreaming this.
M: I could?
S: Are ewe up a tree?
M: I am.
S: We’ll I am probably not, so ewe are most likely dreaming.
M: I must have dropped off.
S: Well, take care if you do, it’s a long way to the ground.
M: Okay, thanks!
S: Ewe are welcome… and, by the way… you snore.
When counting sheep,
whilst attempting sleep,
do any go ‘beep!’?
.
And, if instead, you imagine cows,
do any sing arias, juggle,
take bows?
.
Horses, I find,
can leap-frog your mind,
and you have no choice to choose,
when all you want is a snooze.
.
And if you imagine these things,
leap-frogging horses,
juggling cows, beeping sheep,
then I’m not at all surprised
that you can’t get to sleep.
Knitted sheep in the midday shade
drinking long, tall glasses of cool lemonade
and ice cold tea,
watching the passers-by
passing by…
by and by.
I was counting on the sheep
to get me to sleep;
but, they bleated about
like a rain shower in a drought;
and then the roof leaked.
.
To say my curiosity was piqued
was to speak about me
and my inquisitive self;
and it’s best not to do that;
leave nosing on the shelf
and pretend not to see.
.
Whether I am or not
is a moot point –
as some moot pointed out to me
the other day,
or maybe a century ago –
it was one or the other,
I uncertainly certainly do not know.
It is time for change.
One sheep, should (IMHO), be called a ‘Shoop’ and a baby ‘Shoop’ should be called a ‘Shop’.
I know that, to save confusion, we would then probably have to rename the old ‘sell-stuff, buy stuff’ “shop” places to something else – perhaps they could be called ‘Buy-Places’ – and then we would be sorted out for the duration.
Sheep could relate to sheep numbering 2 to 20, and ‘Sheeps to 21 Sheep and above (‘To Ovinity, and beyond!’ you might say).
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Graeme Sandford 