We walk up the mountain to the look-out point
Abandoned for decades but still watching the sea
There’s a dead sheep within, two piles of decay
Skin and guts on one side, the skeleton on the other
Why didn’t the Farmer help it? asks Emer with a serious face
Too young not to question how He tends to His flock
I don’t know, I say gently, wondering silently when I die
Which part of me will fall left and which to the right?
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Is it my imagination, or was this in quatrains last time I looked? Anyway, very evocative poem and image. Quite took my breath away finding this here after nothing from you for a while – worth waiting for.
Yes, I decided in retrospect that the format was wrong: it didn’t seem to scan properly. I changed it the day after publishing. Glad you liked it. I was struck by my niece’s implicit belief in the essential benevolence of the world.