Spring has left us shy.
We flirt like sheep- cute but clumsy,
forgetting what it was like to fold a summer
into forever. Words come but feel cumbersome-
you can only swallow so much of those ocean eyes
before drowning. Sheep don’t swim
and wool doesn’t do well in so much hot water.
Be careful with the laundry- no white flag yet in sight.
Spring has left us shy.
We never unfolded another summer to flock to the flirt.
You do or don’t- the tide isn’t ours to play with.
Sink, swim, shrink or drown. And I was never good
at lengths- length of time, length of hold,
length of hope.
Sheep need to be shepherded
or they lose their way.
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 
Interesting. Sheep follow a beaten path but a ‘head’ sheep must’ve decided the path at some point! I recently did a post, perhaps along similar lines – called Hard Line (Or Not). I just went where the mouse led (post includes poetry tho’ not mine). We ‘swim’. we adapt.