By the last rays of the winter sun <br />I seem to smell the signs of Spring. <br />Those ewes we'd bring <br />Into the shelter of this lofty barn: <br />Its back turned aganst the gales, <br />Clean straw beds among the bales. <br /> <br />Young lambs learn quick to stand, <br />To find the ewes that fuss around <br />And knock them off to stand again <br />On spindly legs like drunken men. <br />I remember all these happy things <br />And later saw them dance in rings.<br /><br />Matt Mooney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lambs-2/
