Her songs are wild, her imagination untamed. Amid the hungry, bleating sheep, she can create songs that lift the soul.

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The taste of dew on the morning grass excites the herd, causing them to call out in ecstatic joy to the shepherd. Noticing the excitement, she plays her wooden guitar, caressing the instrument and singing with the herd; her song is filled with maah’s and bleats, followed by moments of silence. The grass is soft, and so are the shepherd’s palms upon the guitar. The quiet riverside remains calm as the herd listens in wonder. When she strokes the chords, the sheep call out in ecstasy. With a gentle voice, she makes them feel cozy. Her songs tell of the golden fields of grass in Heaven, singing of a sweet pasture hidden behind the mountains, where no human, shepherd, or flock has ever set foot. She sings of how the fields glitter in the warm heat of the sun. In the shepherd’s songs, she restates her love for the flock, believing that someday, the herd will see the fields of joy.