Season of lambs
This is the season of lambs. Fields come alive
with a tottering delicacy, whose skips and spurts
enliven my daily walks.
The white van that motors slowly through the fields
is their large white god,
with its muted baaing –
their provider, bringer of hay,
calculator of calendars,
solicitous, officious,
with everything worked out to the hundredth,
like a sexton walking the grounds.
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