The Shepherd by Gareth Culshaw

The fields were his home.
His walking stick his God.
The sheep blobbed fields
and his dog chased their legs.
He never knew sunlight
or the moon. He didn’t see
clouds or notice the sky
was blue when cleaned.
He only saw the boots
that crowded his feet.
And felt the prints leave
his steps then fade behind him.
The miles he walked laboured
with the years, fell away
from him with each day of work.
And his dog replaced another dog,
and the flock replaced another.
But he kept treading the hills
scared that if he stopped,
they would float away to a place
above his head, a place
he had never seen.

Gareth Culshaw
Gareth lives in Wales. He has his first collection out in 2018 by futurecycle.

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