tending the flock



age and altitude

have made it difficult for amos to tend the flock


now zoey rides the old bay, thelonius

to the ridgetop


rifle across her lap, as amos had taught her

clover trotting along beside


reaching the meadow she scans the rocky outcroppings

and hidden valleys, counting sheep


watching for coyotes while clover tirelessly

brings the strays back to the flock


come evening, in her caravan, a fire in the woodstove

she cooks something simple


it is quiet, but for the wind, for the occasional bleat

for the occasional coyote, hawk or raven




dawn, a chill morning and the summer meadow

is beautiful


alpine wildflowers beyond counting, sky so blue

clouds so white


later, the rumble and flash of an afternoon thunderstorm

on a distant ridge


the solitude is intense 

thoughts swirl around the question of why


the western ridgetop cuts daylight short

evenings are violet-skied


stars dazzle at night

constellations tell their oft-told tales


and with dawn, after dreams are recalled or forgotten

she begins again 




Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 93 times
Written on 2022-08-05 at 13:15

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Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Left an imprint on my mind, As I read this felt could've been there. Regards Alan.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
A fine sketch.

You're chief at imagery. Like I said, your poems feel lived in. Bravo.

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
This is a charming poem. Pleasant and entertaining to read, and full of imagery that allows the reader to visualise the cycle of Zoey's life. Well done.