I’ve told you there are wolves out here.
Don’t you believe me?
You could fall in a hole
too deep to climb out of.
You could slip on wet rocks
and fall into the river and drown.
Good thing I noticed
your pink nose was missing.
Good thing I turn around
to check on what’s behind me.
Remember that leading the flock
I look forward to find tender grass.
I can’t watch every lamb.
Follow close like the others.
On my shoulders you wiggle, you bleat
you aren’t hurt
but I won’t put you down
knowing how you wander.
Something wrong with these hooves
that carry you left, right, left, left
to the edge of the cliff
overlooking the sea.
Bill Ayres taught Sunday school for children at Wycliffe Presbyterian Church is Virginia before the pandemic. His poetry collection is What Passes for Wisdom.
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