Blades of grass and sheep





Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com

A dead sheep, drowned, was washed up on the sands
Not treasure from the deep brought to the land
We came to Morecambe Bay for time and peace
Noone can escape from unfelt grief

The Aarnside Knott had given me new views
As if it were that green hill were Christ mused
I saw the Langdale Pikes, now small and far
Affecting me, their pulling like a star


Sheep can’t safely graze on Salisbury Plain
The Army tests it weapons there these days
Man and Nature do not see the need
For slow creation, not excessive speed

Every blade of grass is trodden down
Not symbols of creation nor its crown


I welcome comments and criticism

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