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Shepherd on Snowdon
By: James Tipton
In another life I awoke at dawn,
tended the sheep,
climbed the mountain after them
wrapped in fog, wind piercing
my cape of hide. I sang
for the pinnacles revealed
by the blowing mist.
I danced for the tunes
of bleating sheep and the bells of the lost streams.
I spoke poetry to the giant of the cliffs.
And no one heard, no one saw,
but I was happy, by myself
with all of that mountain
for me alone
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