unherd
So many sheep, if asked, would tell
you how they’re wild and free
and independent minded. Well,
they’d say, you won’t catch me
consorting with the common herd.
I’ve even grown a fine goatee
and listen to Coltrane and Bird,
and read the works of well-known potes.
I think conformity’s absurd.
But when they round up all the goats
they’ll hide inside their woolly coats.
Poetry Roundabout 