Before highways there was the shepherd Tending to his flocks on the verdant green Then the pavement and cars came Rushing by him without ever being seen They came and flattened the hills Carved the mountains into dust Laying down highway signs and motels Leaving it all until it turned to rust As lonely cars meander along still The rotten and cracked route Still the shepherd stands with his flock Continuing on empty of any doubts From before the time of Ozymandias Through until the last human falls In the pastoral walks the shepherd Summoning his sheep with his calls
This weeks experimental poem is a pastoral poem. Click here to find out more about this poetry type.
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Musing & Creating with T.J.S. Sherman 
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