“Wait up”, sang the man who walked his bike along the grass.
Just ahead, a shepherd stepped aside for him to pass.
“Some lambs of yours, they wandered off, a dozen, by the trees!”
The shepherd laughed; a windy sound to match the gusty breeze.
And just like that, the sheep returned, the whole fold now intact.
The peddler stood a second, unsure how he should react.
“Perhaps you’d not be laughing had they faced a hungry fox,
Or found a narrow, dusty trail with sudden, falling rocks.
Say, weren’t you worried, just a tad, they’d end up in the creek?”
He kept his smirk, then moved along, “they listen when I speak.”
“You think that such an animal is capable of choice?”
“They have no trouble choosing when the answer is my voice”.
The peddler grew quite bothered with the Shepherd’s smug reply:
“You’ll be a wiser shepherd, should you see a lost a sheep die”.
Stoically the Shepherd fed the found sheep from his hand;
“The loss I suffered for my flock, you’ll never understand”.
The wind again blew fiercely while the man returned to song.
Blocking out the Shepherd’s voice, just peddling along.
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