Most lambs go through the fence,
but they turn back
because the ewe can't follow
the verge of the road is verdant.
Hedges to the horizon,
closing in with a blank sea mist.
Easter is a reminder --
of the fate of lost lambs.
You couldn't follow and I did not return
but I have learned now
to let the fences hold me.
if you call me I will come home.
[poetry train #3]
7 comments:
What a beautiful poem, Emily! I always worry when I see calves in the ditch, and I know their mothers are on the other side of the fence are mooing, "Get back here!" But they don't, of course, until they want milk or danger approaches.
Now I feel bad for enjoying leg of lamb at Easter...well, sort of. Not bad enough to give it up. ;-)
"the verge of the road is verdant" i love this - the boundaries of unexplored experience; the edge of independence. I suppose i'm one of those that barreled over the fence and never looked back.
i so love poems ladened with onion skins.
That is a lovely poem. I agree with Rhian, I like the verdant line best I think. It evokes a strong response. :)
Poor little lost lambs. Beautifully done. Carol
Learning to let fences hold me... now that's a skill I could use.
Nicely done!
mission accomplished.......it's gorgeous.........
Easter is a reminder of the fate of lost lambs.
Easter as redemption - where the sacrificial lamb ends up on someone's dinner plate.
Nice juxtaposition.
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