Pure white sheep
in the teeming rain
freshly shorn
When I drove to town
yesterday I glanced across at the paddock and thought the farmer had square
bales of hay on the ground, well, rectangular ones, you know what I mean. I
thought it was a little strange as most hay is now in giant round bales, some
of which are wrapped up in pretty coloured protective coats to prolong their
life. However, a second look made me realise they were actually sheep, all of
which were contentedly lying down, motionless, and rather grubby looking sheep
at that, hence my mistake first time around.
Coming home today from town
the same paddock was a vast contrast. Through the pouring rain and the wipers
going flat chat, I spotted bright white blobs on legs wandering aimlessly,
probably bemoaning the fact that today had been their scheduled appointment
with the shearer. They would’ve enjoyed it yesterday, being relieved of their
woolly layer when the weather was starting to feel almost tropical, but not
today. Looking naked and decidedly vulnerable in the miserable weather, I hoped
that at least one of them might have the sense to lead them to a big tree under
which to shelter.
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