At dusk, the weather goes head over heals.
The Shepherd with the herds in the homeless home,
Singing praises of what nature gives.
He says “may there be no wolves in this land”
The weather awakens at mourn.
The sheep buoy up the Shepherd with sparkling eyes,
And orates “my lord is Shepherd, may there be no wolves in this land”.
Though Fauna have a yen for a marine song.
But the solitary Shepherd counting the sheep,
With his crook, calling each by name.
The blind man steers his fellow blinds.
The loneliness of a Shepherd gives life to beast.
A Shepherd learn the ropes more from the stray sheep.
When Sunset glows in with its habitual colour,
The watchful dog draw back home with the sheep at eventide.
But by the by to set foot in to the homeless home,
A wolve floats on the ocean of blood.
The Shepherd orates “the lord is our Shepherd”.