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Ode To A Sheepdog

Gloria Atwater

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Greetings all ~


I have committed poetry. Fellow sheepdoggers are welcome to enjoy. :) It's NOT sad, I promise!




Edited to add the poem itself, now that I'm home on my laptop rather than out with just my Blackberry.

Cheers ~








When he leaves me

in his thundering stride,

I watch in very awe,

For he is a black javelin soaring, racing,

Flung from ages past.

On and on and up, he flies,

Until reaching the top, where he turns,

Eyes golden and fever-bright,

And a discussion is had:

“Move, I command thee.”

“Why should we, fanged beast?”

“Because this is the order of things,” he replies.

And the ewes turn and flow towards me,

Little round women in woolen skirts

And their knees flash in sunlight as they come.

I am almost loath to intrude

With my shrill human commands,

For he heeds the call of his blood,

Which whispers from windy hills and fells half a world away.

But when we are done and I whistle him to me,

He comes loping, galloping, joyous

For love of me and what we are together.

And from the long, cool shadows of time,

His forbears watch,

Red tongues lolling in approval.


© G. M. Atwater


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i usually don't read the poetry, as it tends to involve a dying dog, which always brings me to tears. this also moved me to near tears but in a beautiful way. i can't wait to herd with my dog this weekend.

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