I watch this scene from under another tree, entranced.
Long forgotten lyrics of a song float across to me.
“High on a hill was a lonely goatherd.
Lay ee odl lay ee odl odl-oo…”
Yes, this one looks lonely too –
but no, a tiny lamb comes tumbling towards him,
he gropes for his jootis, slips them on,
lovingly scooping it up in his sturdy arms.
Up above, an airplane glints in the noonday sun;
a sliver of hope.
The tiny lamb tossed on his shoulder, he heads home,
[no, he is definitely not lonely],
matching bleat with bleat with the lamb,
the other goats in tow.
A tiny sparrow tilts it tiny head and watches.