There on the wrinkled landscape
Of  topographical coloration
I blast two staccato echoes
A subtle shrill arpeggio at fade out
So subtle a difference that I can't say I hear it
Though I am the director
Of that whistles orchestration

Far across the valley bottom camouflaged by pattern
They will appear somewhere among that sea of white
The receivers pop up in mirrored action
Tiny pinpoints of color among the sea of white
I don't need to be able to see them to know
The exchange of glances anticipation of coming attraction
This is what they live for.... that call to attention
As they await like teenagers or #45 for another tweet

Glancing now at each other and aware
Of that growing sense of  anxiety among their charges
My hesitation stemmed from viewing all the Majesty
But I am aware from way up here of the tension below
And with the valleys steeped in ever darkening shadow
The two miles trek to the awaiting gate and the holding pen
I blow a quick quip to start Sas  and Rocket to bring em in
Then as if of 1 mind they lead em home ...leading from behind

An  addiction to action where by  almost supernatural
Is their ability to move by nip and slip around the throng
Attentive to any wayfarers lost in transit
Encouraging less enthusiastic or lost youngster to move along
Sending the adolescents screaming in terrorized panic
As they are  absorbed into the mass of slow moving wool
And only after the last one of them passes thru ...do
The pair allow themselves ...with the closing of the gate

That romp of triumphant joyfull play as they await their reward
They will receive for their day of working like a dog
That bowl of food that awaits them is secondary to the real prize
To that smile and well done pat on the head or belly scratch

From their beloved master for that is really what they live for!!!