The Shepherd by Joseph Cobb
Image by Terēze Brence
The shepherd peeks with darkened eyes, his breath is short and bated –
Through gaps in trees he peeps and sees the sheep have congregated.
The sheep have seen him hiding there, they wait to play his game,
For years they graze away the days, but now it’s not the same.
The season’s change has been quite strange, its arrival unelected;
A mild scratch on the shepherd’s patch has grown to be infected.
The grass is coarse, there’s no remorse from the wind that drives the pasture,
The sheep are scared; they’re unprepared, they’ve come to find their master.
The sky above is bleak and grey, the foulest odour hums,
As from the break atop the hill another shepherd comes.
This bearded man walks with a stick, his dog there at his flank,
It barks aloud – the shepherd’s proud as he calls the sheep in rank.
The sheep move slow because they know there’s ill about the place,
And the sheepdog too can sense the coup, slowing down his pace.
He has been seen, amongst the green, that shadow in the dark –
A spectral mist; a hidden cyst; an abductor in the park.
The sheepdog stops, as does the flock: the ghoul steps from the trees.
In shepherd’s dress he swaggers out, strong against the breeze.
Two shepherds now upon the brow of the hill that skirts the farm,
The sheep stand tense, for sin they sense – the shepherd howls alarm…
“Oi! You there, you trespasser, you intrude upon my land!
I call alone, you’d need not shown – be gone with you, my man!”
And as he stops his expression drops, for an oddness he had spied:
The shepherd stood ahead the wood had no dog there at his side.
“Who are you, Sir? What is your game? Why silence at this time?
You stand your ground, but where’s your hound? I see your heinous crime!”
The figure holds without response as chaos he incites,
His smile though, did clearly show, his wicked pearly whites.
The jig was up; the truth was out, for ‘neath the fear and loathing
The shepherd saw, as not before, a wolf in shepherd’s clothing.
With pupils wide and dread inside he fiercely waved his stick,
But in disguise, without a rise, the wolf began his trick.
“Come with me and you’ll live free – free of gates and borders,
Or wallow here in abject fear, with this puppy barking orders.”
The sheepdog yapped and barked and spat, showing discontent,
The wolf just smiled as he beguiled, stirring up dissent.
“The truth is clear, so hold it dear, it’s time to see the light:
They take your milk, they slay your young, but I can see you right.”
“Now hold it there!” The shepherd roars, “Enough, you hold your tongue!
If you leave with him your future’s dim – I beg you not to run.”
The sheep are torn, their patience worn; they want to be commanded.
Half turn left, and half turn right, as commitment is demanded.
“I’ve kept you well. I’ve kept you fed. I’ve kept the wolf at bay,
But now he hides…” the shepherd cries, “behind this sick display.”
“Please, my friends, my dearest sheep” the wolf started to plea,
“This wretched foe puts on a show – the villain here is he.”
And then they stare, they dare not move; they both stand full of pride.
The wind blows down the centre line, the game here has been tied.
The wolf looks chuffed for truth he’d bluffed and won his half with ease,
And with his smile, his words and charm, had brought about disease.
The shepherd’s mutt was in a rut – he knew the sheep were leaving,
But there came no call, command or squall for him to start retrieving.
The shepherd knew he couldn’t win, the wolf was far too clever,
And as they left he held his breath – his sheep were gone forever.
“Through the trees!” The wolf decreed, “and I’ll tell you all about it…”
And through the woods the sheep did go, as the wolf removed his outfit.
The Shepherd took no time to mourn, no moment for reflection,
He felt betrayed by those who strayed and opted for defection.
His teeth were tight beneath his lips, his eyes were full of fire,
He clenched his fist and, through red mist, he called his dog in ire:
“Round them up! And let’s be gone! Shake a leg I say!
Away to me – now pick it up – away to me, away!”
And then he left. He turned his back. He sorely abdicated.
In sulk and shame he left the frame, once danger had abated.
He thundered back along the track that led up to the grange,
His dog and flock both tailed in shock, fearful of the change.
Traumatised and demoralised, the sheep followed their caller,
The shepherd would be stricter now, their freedoms even smaller.
Back on the hill the wind was still, the twilight brought a calmness.
The evening hid behind the clouds, the dusk was cool and harmless.
A cheerful man walks with his dog beneath the grassy knoll,
The dog runs wild, just like a child, his tack was strangely droll.
The two are free; at liberty, enjoying nature’s splendour.
In muted talk they idly walk – no duty or agenda.
In cautious step a lonesome lamb emerges in a daze,
He crowns the hill and, despite the chill, stops to rest and graze.
The lamb had hoped that on the slope he’d find his crew and captain,
Unaware of the prior scare and the horrors they were trapped in.
The dog and man below the lamb appeared to catch his eye,
He fixed his stare upon the pair beneath the pallid sky.
They fit the bill, they seemed correct, they surely had to be.
The flock he sought, were close, he thought. He left to go and see.
Through field and heath the little sheep followed close behind,
Trusting that the man and dog were those he wished to find.
They led him out, unknowingly, past gate and fence and post,
Then through the trees the lamb did see the thing he wanted most.
A wild herd lay unperturbed beneath the rising moon.
Calm and still, with true free will; at peace the sheep were strewn.
Ahead the walker and his dog, the lamb did quickly run,
Mistaking this herd for his flock in absence of the sun.
He settled in amongst the sheep and closed his weary eyes,
Away the wolf, away the wind, the shepherd and his lies.
With the dawn the lamb would mourn and find himself in shock,
But in good time the lamb would find this herd was now his flock.
The walker peeks contentedly, his breath is deep and calm –
Through gaps in trees he peeps and sees the sheep are safe from harm.
Words by Joseph Cobb
Artwork by Terēze Brence
Edited by Emily Gough