At the farm, here nereby, lambs arrived
like each year, but not as Spring
in the middle of Winter
sun is shining in high temperatures
No noise they make, quite babies
Mums watch over the fence
and nurse, know them as their own
from where they came from
No father in the house
No lazy sofa or TV
Just mum in her stable
and soft hay her kids
Through a door to the next
where goats comb their beards
wet them in water, food stucks within
in stables full of sheep
happy to deliver
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