As the Crow Flies II

As the Crow Flies II | Nicole Mē   | Original Poetry | Original Spoken Word Poetry

getting from A to B isn't in the start or the end but in the journey

Bus Ride to Antrim Hospital

The flock of cream sheep on whose
faces Ulster’s storm clouds have
congregated are

now lying fence-side; retired after
the day’s grazing and lazy in
sheep-like conversation, all mute-
mouthed with

an intentional eye and quizzical
turn of the lip. A few remain
upright, active in eating only,
to have

settled in by return of the next
bus from Antrim.

sometimes, leave it to sort itself

As the Crow Flies II | Nicole Mē   | Original Poetry | Original Spoken Word Poetry

the shoes of my mother's mother are my shoes

learn a lesson . make the cost pay