From a distance - I loved that their coats have turned a mottled grey.
It reminded me of life's seasons. Of aging's grace.
From up close - I found that the mottle that I'd thought so elegant was a mess of tangled burrs.
Why aren't their coats shaved and spun into warm yarn?
Why isn't someone taking care and loving these sweets?
A sign on the fence said: 'Lamb for Sale'.
I wondered what it might be to bring one home with me. Or two. Or three.
I thought about my sheep herding dogs...and how much fun that might be.
And then - as if I'm the last person on this earth to fully understand - I did.
These are 'Lamb'. Those that are 'for Sale' - are these.
For a moment - I stopped. I shed a couple of sad tears.
It can't be.
I've always wished to live a farmer's life.
Maybe not so much. Maybe it's not for me.
I've named my friends.
I've grown to love their daily greeting...on my daily walks.
I'm too attached. I'm too in love.
It's too hard.
To say good-bye. To let go.