Lambs And Swallows And Dandelion Days Poem by peter rodenby

Plaintive calls across dale,
babes of meadow grow quickly in dandelion days.
Following stooping mothers,
nestling teats in a frenzy of feeding.
Tails wag wildly, ecstatic hunger,
quickly skip, prance, and run to play.
Class mates, contemporaries,
seeking each other out.
Woollen “babes in the woods”

Head butting contests,
races, idle time.
upon grassy hillocks champions!
Each mother a watching nursemaid
Kindergarten, a field across the wall.
ignorant of destiny, waiting in slaughter yard.

Bred, born to die fattening on grass,
spring turns to summer, trees leaf again.
Prisoners of Man, boarders of meadow.
lambs grow meat, on feet,
mint is greening in the garden.
Transport trucks, predetermined doom
Begin fateful final journey very soon.

Do they see the swallows return?
Do they recognise them for what they are?
Spirit phantoms waltzing boundless sky,
dance hall limitless, come, go, regardless,
ariel entertainers, free from incarceration
in the dandelion dales and the hand of Man.