A poem and photograph from my latest book, Ireland, Place out of Time (2017). Order your copy from Amazon.

Technicolor Wool

In the west, swaths of government
land are leased to sheep farmers

paint swatches grace
every sheep’s back

farmers know whose is whose.
Rams, though, they’re special

their chests splotched purple,
or green, or blue, each

sporting his own signage.
Come spring, farmers read

the colors on each ewe’s rump
—husbandry, and fertility, confirmed.