Pastoral Care And Wisdom


See them let loose from their pen
To roam the trackless moors again
Beneath his sharp and watchful eyes
As are also the overarching skies

Especially at the break and close of days
Intent on not the hour but these slanted rays
Unlike the townsmen shackled fast to time
But heedful of the weather-lore rhyme

Red sky at night
Shepherd’s delight
Red sky in the morning
Shepherd’s warning

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on March 27, 2016, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Love the flow and words.

    Liked by 1 person

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