The pastor
of grief and dreams
guides his flock towards
the next field
with all his care.
He has heard
the bell tolling
but the sheep
are hungry and need
the grass, today and
every day. Beautiful
his patience, his long
shadow, the rippling
sound of the flocks moving
along the valley.
– Denise Levertov, ‘A Cure of Souls’, in Poems, 1960–1967 (New York: New Directions Publishing, 1983), 92.
jasongoroncy.com 
This poem reminds me of Banjo Paterson’s “The Travelling Post Office”:
By camp fires where the drovers ride around their
restless stock,
And past the teamster toiling down to fetch the
wool away
My letter chases Conroy’s sheep along the
Castlereagh.
LikeLike
“I cried my soul out” by jaggedlines
LikeLike