The past is gone,
Future’s unclear:
All you have is
This moment here.
A sheep gazes at you
With curious eyes –
Stop the torture,
Ignore the lies.
Grasp the present
With both hands:
It trickles through
Your fingers: sand.
All shall be well
The angels say –
You wake, begin another day.
The past is gone
And with it fear:
Soon we start
Another year.
But first exams,
Then maybe snow
Will blanket the hills.
And now rain falls,
The grass smells fresh –
The country air
Exhausts you: but
You just don’t care
About your mistakes:
Behind you, they
Crumble. You still
Can pray.
For deliverance from
Your unpleasant past:
Now the sun doth
Shine at last.
Green hills, blue sky,
White black-faced sheep –
You only wish that you
Could keep this moment
Bottled up. For later:
When you’ve drained the Cup
Of pleasure. Gaze at
Your leisure. On sheep,
And hills, a train rolls past:
And now you are
Content at last.
*1976. By Leonie Swann. A sheep detective story. A flock of anthropomorphic Irish sheep try to solve their shepherd’s murder.
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