Tuesday, 1 July 2014


Rugged mountains high and steep,
A place where shepherds muster sheep,
Snow in winter it lies around,
While sheep aren't finding solid ground.

Spring comes and new borns too,
Horses fitted a shoe or two,
Mountain flowers start their bloom,
Bright yellow in the broom.

Summer heat is hot and harsh,
Only slight green around the marsh,
All the sheep are out the back,
So the horses get a decent hack.

Branches torn in autumn breeze, 
Blanket of leaves under trees,
The sheep are brought in from the storm,
Snug in the shed cosy and warm.

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