THE WATCH

The wolf snuck in sly and slow
While I was getting my sheep in tow.
I didn’t see him creeping in
Didn’t see his rabid, hungry grin.
His eyes fixed on my flock of sheep
And searched for one, alone and weak.

Now ‘round the back a ewe she’d strayed
A wee lamb simply wanting to play.
I didn’t hear her fearful cries
As the Wolf closed in to steal his prize.
Then something made me turn around
To check that all were safe and sound
That’s when I saw him with my sheep
Fleeing fast on padded feet.
I cried with rage and swift I flew
To grab my knife and take pursuit.

Up and up the hill I climbed
Drove by the cries of the sheep of mine.
And as the Wolf he topped the hill
My eyes they caught and held him still—
A look of gloating filled his eyes
As his tongue rolled o’er his tender prize
He smiled, then he laughed at me
And to the woods he turned to flee.

“Face me, Jackal!” loud I cried.
And moved still faster up the side.
But as I crest the steepened hill
With which I climbed with shepherd’s skill,
I turned and there near in my face
Was the Wolf in all his blackened grace.
“Face you?” did he smile and say,
“Does the little shepherd want to play?”

“Jackal,” did I spit his name,
“You’ve taken something that I claim.”
The sheep she huddled on the ground
And scarcely did she make a sound.
“Take? But no,” he laughed aloud
And raised his head tall and proud.
“We were but playing a game, you see.
Would you like to join the revelry?”

“Liar,” said I plain and clear
Without the faintest hint of fear.

“Liar?” he asked, his eyes grown cold.

“Thief!” I said, “You are too bold!”

His body shook with seething rage
“Boy,” he asked, “what is your age?”

“Age and size are but a myth
For truth is what I’ll fight you with!”

And then he leaped, the monstrous beast
I stepped aside, my knife unsheathed.
He dove again to grab my throat
But back I stepped and sliced his coat.
Furious now once more he came
But my knife it cut the beast again.
He stopped his hunt quite suddenly
And paused to oddly look at me.
His eyes had turned a cooling hue,
When he asked, “What is one sheep to you?”

And though I saw his fight was done
I boldly spoke, “She’s mine, this one.”

Then with a nod he walked away
But from the woods I heard him say:
“Watch, little shepherd, watch your sheep.
For I never, never, ever sleep.
Today, yes, I’ll concede this fight
But tomorrow brings another night.
For forever will I haunt your way
Till Death himself takes me away.”

©1997 K. K. Pullen