when we appear at the gate
their bleating starts
calling of ewes to lambs
lambs to ewes
locating each other in panicked calls
so anxious are they at our arrival
~
a pair of sturdy lambs burrow under a ewe
knocking the flighty beast off-balance
pull hard at her teats for comfort
lambs who already feed happily on grass
who merrily join patrols of this pasture
party to a gambolling gang
who normally ignore the stark-shorn ewes
lined by tines of electric shears
that have scored their skinned fleece pink
~
When our red quad-bike appears
these adolescent lambs cry
for more mother’s milk
perhaps instinctively aware
of what drives our human kindness
~
CLP 27/06/2021