A notice warns us not to take the kids.
They're not abandoned. Females graze nearby.
Disguised by trees and bracken, white tails
and beards shake the hillside stillness.

Four stand beside the lake. A longhaired male
waves curly horns at a nanny guarding
two piebald kids. They cross our path joining
eight others, giving no mind to photographers.

We walk by the water, gaze at Kevin's bed
discourse on holiness, why he is canonised,
a saint who pushed Kathleen into the lake
because she dared to love a holy man

and what had made evangelists decide
sheep may be gathered in, goats cast aside.

Rosy Wilson