Sheep are contrary creatures, and these
Not content with the grazing in their pen
Had pushed down the fence,
Gone seeking lusher green
Along the busy road.
“Dot,” I called, “sheep.  See sheep.”
As if she were not already caught, fixated by those sheep far beyond my stumbling reach.
I waited for a break in traffic.
One word:  “Away.”
And after that just wait and close the gate behind the sheep she brought,
Knowing,
As she did,
Far more of sheep than I.

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