I watched as he plodded home keeping between the drills.
Reins slung over his right shoulder
The grey mare sauntering behind
Chewing from a well earned nosebag.
Hat in hand, head bowed in prayer
The chimes of the Angelus bell ringing out
6pm – the village church some 4 miles away.
He lifted the latch on the half-door
Whistled the sheepdog, beckoned to me
It was milking time.
Later we’d sit, drink tea and eat chunks of home made bread.
I well recall the night you died.
(c) Chris Black 2017.