Picture a meadow:
Sheep graze peacefully,
Happily bleating
At one another and
Moving together,
Obliviously, to and fro in a sort of
Natural harmony.
Yet none stray too near
The treeline
At the edge,
For within the dense foliage,
The dark shadow,
Awaits sharp yellow teeth
And a swift end to peace.
A lone sheepdog watches
Over this flock,
Carefully, suspiciously,
Scrutinizing each member,
Searching vigorously, endlessly
For a hint of gray fur
Somewhere in all the wool.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC
Picture a meadow:
Sheep graze peacefully,
Happily bleating
At one another and
Moving together,
Obliviously, to and fro in a sort of
Natural harmony.
Yet none stray too near
The treeline
At the edge,
For within the dense foliage,
The dark shadow,
Awaits sharp yellow teeth
And a swift end to peace.
A lone sheepdog watches
Over this flock,
Carefully, suspiciously,
Scrutinizing each member,
Searching vigorously, endlessly
For a hint of gray fur
Somewhere in all the wool.
© Ethan M. Pfahning 2019
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