The Shepherdess Series #1
Crossing a frozen bridge from the north
A green meadow glistens in the sun
From far away trudges a tiny, old
Woman carrying a staff.
She is a shepherd.
Wandering closer and closer
I am fascinated by her movement,
She glides graciously as if walking on water
Without any sounds of wetness
I move off the bridge toward her
No need for words
I have known her from some time
And some place long ago
Somewhere I don't recall visiting
White hair, peasant blouse
Long flowing skirt, large nose,
Glasses, she gazes at me and
I look at her in awe
Our eyes meet, hers blue and deep
Mine, requesting, seeking, searching
What do you have to tell me
Or show me? I ask
Her eyes soften sweetly
Her gentle smile seems delighted
She offers me her staff
I accept it then worry, asking
How will you walk without your
Staff, your cane?
As she turns around to amble away,
She says she has no need of the staff anymore
Then, I watch as Spirited Beings, maybe
Angels, seem to swarm around her lifting her
Up, helping her travel with them
Higher and higher, up into the sky
The Shepherdess Series #2
Along came a spider and
Spun a web beside me while
I cross the frozen bridge
During the early spring
Again, the Shepherdess waltzs
Toward me from afar
Same beatific, old wrinkled face
Same clothes, same walk
But without her staff
I meet her, get closer for
A better look, mesmerized by
Her gaze and gifts without
Her saying a word
What can you tell me
This time, Oh Wonder?
She offers me a bright white
Lamb that she has been holding
Though unseen until now by me
A lamb? A Lamb? is all
I can utter. Yes, she says
Take care of my lamb, please
Won’t you?
I am amazed, astonished
Realizing something very
Important is happening to me
But not knowing exactly what it is
I carefully take the Lamb, holding it
Awkwardly, curiously
Wondering what taking care of this Lamb
Will teach me and our world?
No comments:
Post a Comment