The Sheppard strokes the sheep
assuring peace with every wave of his hand.
Weary to the Wolf’s eyes
as he gazes onward,
red his eyes will glow
with imagination.

In his mind he is
picking wool from his teeth;
a blood-filled smile as
the Sheppard weeps a
river of tears and
the Wolf chuckles to
himself, looming over the
mountains of carcasses.
He steps forward to the
Sheppard ~ now on his knees begging ~
and lays his paw on the man’s
head, laughing hysterically
at the Sheppard’s defeat, the
tears rolling down the Sheppard’s cheeks
as he holds the blood-soaked wool in
his hand, but
The Wolf spares no mercy.

The Sheppard sends the sheep
to their pen to sleep the night away.
Weary are the Wolf’s eyes
as his gaze is turned away.
Red his paws will drop,
He will return another day.