Sheep's Work Is Never Done
Sheep’s Work Is Never Done
Life calls after sheep in morning to continue
Everyone else sleeps in
Hiding from the corporate coma for awhile
People rise, at a later date, from beds dead tired
Smiles crack on faces; lines move the traces of age around
And break the new dawned day wide open
You can’t count on sheep for anything
They cut wood down in forest
Place it into piles
I know this can’t be done
They have no work permits
Their visas have expired
They line up to be deported
You can’t count on sheep when sleeping either
They wake up freezing cold in wooden homes
Catch colds, catch fire with the trees
To burn the forest down
Weep with matches hidden in the wool
Call it an accident
No one keeps the peace and secrets like death and sheep
You can count on that
Death takes everyone with it, with or without their visa
Sheep move back to their own countries
Work is never done there either, but
To be continued
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