Sheriffmuir Bike Ride
Crap-stained, straggly as drunks,
bleating, panicked sheep overflow
the tarmac into dykes and ditches
slam against fences
swirl round on themselves
heads and hooves eddying
vaguely north toward
the cold moor water
of the Millstone Burn
its thin dark rush.
I can see and hear the sheep, though I've only met their cousins in Northumberland and Cumbria.
ReplyDeleteBest wishes
Fran