Old Grand Ewe

Behold sequestered by the sea, not whale, nor seal, nor small sand-flea. This is the face of old grand Ewe, whom from the cliffs, has come to view. Though slit-eyed stare, gazes at the ocean, watching it move in glorious motion. And then slowly moves across the land, as trotters deep in arduous sand. But none the less, the ewe finds the rock, somewhere steady, to rest her flock. And signals up with baas of glee, as sheep come down, all primed for tea. Yet when the waves do come to shore, Ewe is perplexed by fish galore. It flaps its tail, and moves its fin, yet gasps for air with frightful grin! For no chud nor chard to eat but bark, blown in from prior stormy dark. Ewe signals to the nearby scene, and struts upon its golfing green. And takes a bite and likes the taste, and soon the whole flock emigrate. Yet by the morn, when putters come, the grass is gone, all in Ewe's tum. And so sequestered by put and club, Ewe takes her flock all way back up. To grassy cliff, to rocky hills, away from modern-day, beach side thrills. But never will the Ewe forget, The escapade, with no regret. 03.17.2024