Not a Pilgrim’s Path
This is not a pilgrim’s path,
Carved out by praying feet;
No, this leads to the field I keep my sheep,
Have trodden here each day,
Now it is my turn, to follow these.
Sometimes a stranger passes –
A pilgrim that’s lost their way,
While searching for the near-by holy place;
But very soon they are perturbed,
For when they reach the gate,
They find their gaze returned by grazing sheep.
Even at the winter solstice,
When the storm clouds threaten snow,
Some hardy ones will come here by themselves,
This is my time of vigilance – even more then lambing time,
As from the northern forests –
Come packs of hungry wolves.
©John Anthony Fingleton (Löst Viking)
Photo credit Kersten Howard photography.