markerstones for the millennium

inscription

In late May or June - The farmers brought their sheep - To wash their fleeces - In this deep pool - Burbling, bumbling, bleating - The waters bleat like a flock of sheep it dipped - Dip your ghosts into this hard, cold merky place - Hear their bleat in the water's rush to escape - The foam like wool pulsates - Damp leaves nothing behind but the trees' readiness