wolf in the valley of sheep

baa baa black sheep baa baa

the sun sets, the wolves begin to howl

the cool air depletes the wool and the sheep recede

fawning light is eclipsed by shadows deep

sleep is distracted by a shooting star

flashing glimpse of determined light

streaking and fleeting across sepia stained time

rolling hills green in sunlight now blanketed by nights cool darkness

shepards roaming through dusty streets paved by pounding feet

a match strikes and fire gasps its first breath in a blue orange flicker

reflections glimmer off shiny eyes slow with sleep deprived

panting breath is condensed in small puffs and snorts from a wolf snout

the sheep huddle close and comfortable with a border within a box

fenced in from the dark, trapped in and secluded from the wild

a puff of smoke from an old carved wood pipe swirls and floats with ease

a crisp, dry breeze pulls the smoke toward the tree lined meadow

in shadows of trees the wolves whisper waiting for the shepard to sleep

glint in shiny eyes and glimmering teeth

the sheep have a sixth sense and begin to call

baa baa go the sheep as the shepard stirs his mut

grumbling words of comfort

to sit tight lads, that this night is short and summer is on the horizon

the day is around the corner

the fire dwindles down to same familiar orange glow

the sheep rest finally as the wolves are heard howling across the valley

happy with bellys full of carnivorous laughter