God looked
out into the
pasture, he
pointed to the
sheep that was
kneeling down
to graze. He spoke
softly, "this ram
needs ointment, that
does not look right."

God takes the
shepherd for a
closer look, the ram
limped away favoring
his right front leg, no
visible wounds, no infected
hoofs or irritation between
the claw, "Get the witch,
she will know," God said
to the shepherd.

The witch comes,"there
seems to be tunneling
critters, look at these
divots in this pasture,
you have a lame ram,
he stepped in the witch's
gopher hole, he needs
to be sheared to get the
weight of the fleece off,
and another thing that
ewe over there bahs the
same tune, she needs a
dose of absinthe, wormwood
to loosen her story cords, she
praises you too much, God,"

And so, the witch's
shears laid beside
the ram's fleece,
which had no vegetative
matter in it, It had been
rained on while the ram
was still wearing it, the
lanolin naturally washed
out of it, britch wool from
the rear legs, belly wool,
and arm pit wool bagged
separately and discarded
by the witch, keeping only
the best part of the beautiful
fleece,

"For what will you do with
this fleece, my witch?"

"Dye it lavender, put it
to my spinning wheel
and make it into a
community blanket,
slow progress, but with time,
it comes together.  Many do
not find enjoyment in these
and just burn the fleeces,"

"I shall like to have
a salt and pepper gray
dyed sweater, I shall
call upon you in shearing
season, my good witch, the
Pagans and the sheep spend
more time out in the rain watching
the fleece grow, why the blades
on your shears are sharper than
most. Onward and Amen."

Copyright 11/19/2009 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist