You had grazed the field
To flat land ravenous
Leaving the blades like skinhead hairdo
That’s the why
You were back on the road again
Treading the hard surface sleg
In search of green fields
A farmer to the head and hoof of you
To keep you in line
Your herd instinct is to follow like sheep
If one of you find gap ditch dike
To go through
Then the farmer is a lost sheepdog
You lead him astray
Trying to round you up
He’s like a circus clown trainer
Who takes hours each day
Repeating the same routine
Until animal has got it
The farmer is waving
Both hands up and down
Saying moup moup
Eventually when you have tasted
The sweet ditch grass
He moves you on
Finally you arrive
at the alloted plot
Weary and confused
You resume your endless eating
Till you find your centre again
Back in form
Of heads bowed down in prayer