There is a danger to overgrazing
a pasture,
staying too long in one placeThere is much satisfaction in
the pattern of transitioning,
of establishing small encampments,
moving between seasons,
in a nomadic way of life
For some there is a draw, a willingness
to trade well-known identity to become
a soul living close to nature
Indigenous people of Northern and
Eastern Europe, Mongolia, or North
Africa might trade meats, wool and cheeses,
own nothing,
but find peace in leaving the past behind
Free from living en masse,
the grind of everyday commutes and
psychic pressures of modern life where, not
uncommonly, a young innocent girl
could be a violet stepped on
in a park and it's true -
in western culture there are always sheep
in need of a shepherd
It's a comfortable transition for
independents, we loners who shrink
from this world and live
with fresh pastures to graze on,
where unknown shepherds keep their flock
in tact, protect it.
Yet it is a lonely life, when the name has died,
buried long before the body in tact, protect it.
Yet it is a lonely life, when the name has died,
Indeed, the life of a shepherd is on
a higher plateau,
the distance between summer and winter
The herding of sheep, goats, or yaks leads one
to a virtuous soul
Instead of homeless in a city,
a camel trader might fall sleep one
bitter, chilly night to wake up on a
slope of the flowing Steppes of Hungary
on a night clear and find the moon lying
on its back,
Instead, a young woman on an alpine
hillside milks her reindeer, surrounded by
fields of wild cloudberries
An awkward shepherd boy treated badly
by the village people can stand proudly
with his herd and upon reaching the curve
of a mountain, find a beach covered
with snow
Starting our new week with new pub tenders over at dversepoets.com Anna has asked us to write
creatively to experiment using one philosophy to describe another. i.e... to write about something totally different using baseball terminology.
