


New Born Lambs
Here, on the edge of suburbia
Wide bitumen rivers
Plough through barren fields
On nearby deserted hills
Giant man made towers pierce the clouds
The midday winter sun
Forgot to open her eyes
And failed to warm
The frost bitten land
Where new born lambs
Tremble and struggle to stand
Here, I silently search
For her guiding hand
While passionately waiting
For Mother Nature’s last command
Ivor Steven (c) June 2022