Dessert and Sunday Dinner

© Bethan Williams 2014

Up beneath the sunshine,
a quiet, still, horizon landscape
and I’m stood on top of the world.
The grass not quite vibrant spring green,
instead,
a bland brittle moss clinging to the earth.
18 years since I first climbed up
and I’ve come again.
Older, quieter, just not much wiser.

Sat on the dry stone wall
tracing the shapes in the stone.
I watch the sheep amble past;
too stupid to avoid the speeding cars
screeching to a halt and dim-wittedly staring back.
One comes so close I could touch it.
As clear as the cloudless spring sky
I am stood there on the mountain,
not five yards from where I’m sitting
and am hardly even four years old,
wrapped up warm against the wind
in a mismatched scarf and gloves,
and yet happy to be handed a ’99 Flake
from the ever present ice-cream van.
A yummy vanilla cone all for me.

Picking up a bare branch, I scratch the earth,
Sorry for the harebrained sheep eating grass,
moseying past in the same uncaring way,
and tame to human touch.
A nosy ewe saunters up, eyeing my ice-cream
cheekily I stick out my now white tongue
staring back giggling, silly sheep.
As I step forward, the ewe mirrors me,
curious but not to close
she gets what she came for –

Lifting that bare branch, holding my cone:
and without warning, vanishes.
the ice-cream gone in the blink of an eye.
The sheep saunters off, grazing more grass
and Dad says;
‘Don’t worry kid – she’ll be dinner come Sunday’.


The offending sheep:

sheep 001

© Bethan Williams 2014

*Updated 27/12/14 – Image AND Text*

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