Sheep-tending

Unaware of the history,
Sheep graze wind-blown grass
On the ancient Scottish cliffs
Weather-worn from when the terrain
Had torn violently in two.

And who am I amidst
The acreage of huddled wool.
The whispers of this orphaned land
Once tropical, and between
Continents, now a volcanic hulk.

The flock weaving among
Stumps of what were once mountains
Higher than the flight of birds,
Now humbled by the ages
As am I.

The sheep will serve a better purpose.
Millennial rain will wash ev'rything
Bare of names, extinguishing ev'ry star
When the land rejoins,
Singing its answer from afar.