I watch
As the bleat of the sheep
For its young
Finds one appearing
Underneath a tree.
Bounding across the meadow,
It bobs and bounces
Beside its mother
Who stands, stern,
Seemingly disinterested.
But she is looking for another
Who responds
but does not come –
The problem child
The disruptive, independent one.
She stays
Firm in her position
As one suckles
While the other continues grazing
On its own patch of grass,
Content under the midday sun.
She keeps on calling;
Carries on receiving
The same blunt answer.
Meanwhile, the compliant one
Claws at her teat with its teeth,
Milking her dry.
Suddenly, she stumbles forward,
Impatient, aggressive,
The little head beneath her belly
Bundled out of the way
Perhaps a bit too unfairly
By her belligerence.
Only then, perhaps seeing this advance,
Does the other come,
Succumbing to the sense
That his refusal to return has
Now crossed a line.
He suddenly runs toward mother,
Perhaps realising that his disobedience
Has led to the unintended consequence
Of harm
To his dazed sibling
Whose meek nature he greets
With a sheepish bleat,
Belying all bets that this dutiful child
Is a plain pushover
Whose mercy is merely bought
With a quick rub of the white coat
Forgiveness is granted
This time
And they play together
Beside a watchful mother,
Both of us now gazing
Upon this glint
In the eternal Shepherd’s eye.
