Lonely stars filled the cloudy night

Crickets quizzed behind the rocks

But the lonely Shepherd stayed awake

Watching the glittering from the star light

Listening to the bleating of sheep, his lullabic songs

Sniffing wet and mild airs that came from the lake

He lays on his soft pillow of wool

Wrapping his arms about his slim self

And wandered off in a fine dream

…to a place where the skies are blue,

And the grasses, green, fine and straight

With flowers; red, pink, orange, cream

The morning welcomes a golden sunshine

The Shepherd prays, dines and leaves his tent 

Through the hole in the barn door he tries to see,

Grinning at the sight of the sheep which was awoken

Quickly, he carefully descends into their midst

Waking the weak and nudging them lovingly

‘Wake, wake’ he calls out, the sheep knew his voice

And it came upon them, another day of feast had come

So in delight, the sheep bleat and head toward the forest

He picks one of his lambs,  his favorite choice

Whistles, sighs and talks to the fine little lamb

Now when the day will go the Shepherd retires to rest