The smell of sheep,
wool, and sweat
assails the nostrils
in the shearing shed;
grinders whirring,
sparks flying
as the cutting blades
are sharpened.
Gentlemen start your engines!
Each shearer works
at his own pace
yet keeps an eye on
the others, for the
final tallies matter
when it comes to pay day.
Tea breaks are welcomed,
billy tea and scones,
with a hearty midday lunch
to fuel aching backs.
On a good run four hundred
are fleeced,
with
wool
sorted,
baled,
and
stacked.....
D'verse poets have given us a prompt to describe a 'setting' which should include using descriptive words to transport one to that particular setting. As a farmer's daughter the shearing shed was a very familiar place.....