the sheep that like to say yes
Everyone waits at the bridge while the sheep cross. Yes. Yes. Yes. Y-e-e-s. Yes. Yes. Ye-e-e-s. Yes. Yes.Yes. Yes. Ye-e-e-s. There’s a hollow rush of hooves. The affirmations grow louder & louder. The dogs pad & crouch, or sneak about grinning like camp guards. Some twat from Gillingham informs everyone, “They’ll be meat in a week. Tourists just don’t realise that.” We all stare at him thinking, “Actually, they do, you twat.” The dogs look at him with contempt. The toddler in the floral wellies looks at him with contempt. Even the sheep look at him with contempt, weighing for a moment this insight of a twat presented as proud contrarianism, then it’s yes time again. Yes. Yes. Y-e-e-es. Y-e-e-e-s. Yes. Yes.
Photo: C Phillips.