The Life of a Sheepherder…

The fields are still, the herders tired, the dogs

all resting; the flock all feed, no bleating throats,

one lone shepherd under a fading moon and his

dog stands silently while the sleeping herd has

nothing to dread.

At first light, the sheep are lead to another green

pasture, the herders murmur among themselves

about the warm summer day. They rushed the

sheep through a field of scarlet poppies at the

beauty of which they are amazed.

Once in the pasture the sheep pull up the grass by

its roots, the pale tendrils will soon wilt and die. The

ground will turn fallow and no longer thrive.

High upon the half-reaped field the shepherd will

remain until sundown. When the windswept rain

begins the herders know it is time for their day to end.

They watch the sparks from their fires ascend upward

toward a purple night, and in the deep scent of the

newfound grass they make their beds believing that

everything with the world is right.

The herders smoke their pipes and talk of gypsy-lore,

and the life they live where sheep, dogs and herding

will be their life forever more. A glimpse of their

future lies within their dreams, a glimpse of what all

of their tomorrows will bring.

The fields are still, the herders tired, the dogs

all resting; the flock all feed, no bleating throats,

one lone shepherd under a fading moon and his

dog stands silently while the sleeping herd has

nothing to dread.

 

2010©annjohnsonmurphree

 

 

http://www.amazon.com/Sachet-Poetry-Adoration-Aspirations-Asylums/dp/1500483354/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1405934856&sr=1-1&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

 

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