The Crooked Shepherd

Beware the Crooked shepherd

Who stalks these crooked hills!

Leading on his crooked flock

Smiling, bearing crooked teeth!

 

He feeds his sheep stale grains

And set them to pasture on barren fields.

Lean is their fleece.

Feeble are his promises.

 

Beyond a sea of trees, they spot

Rotund flocks led by strange men

Feasting merrily upon distant emerald hills

“Why must we starve?” a lamb cries.

 

“Because the wolves!” The shepherd snarls.

“Because the wolves!” The flock echoes.

The wolves that stalk the woods

Before the emerald hills.

 

Beware the shepherd’s hound

Robust, poised upon shoulders askew!

He gnaws idly upon a succulent leg of lamb.

The price of his loyalty.

 

He watches over the flock

A protector from the beasts.

His snarl checks any further protest

Earning his nightly meal.

 

Starved, dazed and weak they all stumble.

The fallen left behind day by day

Skirting the treeline awaiting an opening

that does not exist.

 

Empty and crooked the shepherd speaks

“We’ll find the path to the hills! Any day now!”

They worry not about the lost

They simply weren’t faithful enough!

 

One day perhaps they will discover the path

What few do survive anyhow.

Or perhaps they’ll learn

That the wolves went extinct long ago.

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