The tired boy looked yonder,
Over the rugged terrain,
To the faraway green pasture,
Hoping it wouldn't rain.

Dark clouds moved above,
Hiding the bright summer sun.
Carefully,he took off his glove,
And felt his gun.

His flock awaited greenery,
An animal instict to satisfy.
Yet everywhere remained dreary,
To his careful eye.

The air smelled of predators,
Responsibility awaited him,
There were no doors,
An open area lay before them.

The modern shepherd,
Said a short prayer,
And continued ahead,
Hoping to be the savior.

Alas!

Behind the trees in a distance,
He spotted movements.
From his forehead,
Dropped sweat beads.

The flock continued en route,
He was ready to shoot.
He would not be hunted,
But a hunter if he could.

Suddenly,
A black crow jumped ominously,
From the very spot,
And flew away uncaught.

Thank God!

Saved for the day
Were the flock and him.
Prepared were they,
For the fight and whim!