The enigma of summer
The lamb went to sleep on a bank and dreamed
of earth, earthworms, flies
grass grew through its pelt.
Its mother slid down the slope
burning the turf with her decay
flies sunned themselves on the skid mark.
Skylarks sang in heaven, where God was a huge old
bearded head, just outside the blue dome looking in.
Sleep tight little lamb
like a rock drawing.
© Graham Lindsay