Sonnet for the Sheep
A Sonnet to Shearing Sheep
Ah beauty of the sheep whose wool has grown
In the heat of summer they sweat and wheeze
Their fleeces call to be future sewn
into sweaters and hats flown in the breeze.
We use a rough stone to sharpen our shears
From the tall grass we take up the stanchion
Lift by their legs without pulling the ears
Summer cut now, ‘til next fall’s expansion.
Down legs, along spine, on belly and neck
we squeeze on the shears both gentle and firm
The focus is taut to cut every speck
We try not to nick them each time they squirm
Perhaps they look silly without matted dreads
But that wool will be spun in glorious threads.
