Flocks

 This is the way it is. I hear the bleating in the distance.

I have left
So many flocks behind
I hear them still
Whether we talk
Or not.
I hear them still.
Some safely graze
Some have moved
To pastures
I cannot know.
This is always the way of it.
Always the way.
Some sheepfolds have been emptied
Even torn down.
The sheep have moved on.
I have moved on
As well.
Sometimes
I get to say goodbye.