With Bells On

Their bells precede them.
One by one, from thick brush,
a hundred sheep emerge.
They pour into the dry riverbed,
which now runs white
with long coats that walk
and bell, bell, bell.
No sheep sounds the same note.
Their composition rises and jangles
up the riverbank, where I stop.

In the hills of Lesbos,
the jingling music of these sheep
swells my every sense.
My third eye snaps open.

©Susa Silvermarie 2019

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