Fleece therapy in poetry

Grounded and Elevated
or The Healing Power of Fleece

On a low dank day
I urge grudging feet out to the sheep,
my gait stuttering and reluctant.

Eager muzzles seek my waiting cupped palm
for apples or grain.

Grain gone,
my hands delve deep
into their thick, shy fleece.

I come away with the must
of wool and lanolin,
walk easily back toward
my cabin,
my small family,

a little lighter.

HMMooreNiver


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