Read Poetry: Sheepscape, by Dan Brook

alone in the verdant field
she munches the grass
though there’s no satisfaction there
remembering her last love
even the fresh grass and buttercups
of this warm Spring morning
taste bland, empty, meaningless
why eat to stay alive
when life itself feels like death?
the early day’s breeze
ruffling her woolly coat
she feels a gentle caress
the nuzzle of her true love
the hearty smell of his matted hair
lost in her fantasy
a bolt of ecstasy flashes through her being
shaking her to the core with pleasure
stepping on a pebble in the field
awakens her from this temporary world
once again, she finds herself alone
in the distance, she hears a plaintive “baaaaaa”
it sounds just like him… is it? could it be?!
she’s already in another daydream