…The words turn about the axis (IX) Leaping mutton…

The sheep had been delightfully obedient of late.
Elated, the Shepard herded his flock
A short ways beyond their typical grazing.
To the jutting hills edge on the nearside of the chasm.

Even sheep know better than
to stray beyond the invisible fence.
Not curious, how else might the proverbial
sheep-clad wolf pass strict scrutiny.

The cut of the hill left little to be desired.
Ample room, beauteous banner surrounds.
Even nature must take pride in and about itself
He imagines- now yawning- the sleepy Shepard,

As bandits express their disinterest in such still-life.
Approaching the addled, musing man- crook in arm.
Salivating with prospects of mouflon-filled mouths
A Shepard’s nook, and whatever else might be fleeced.

Alert now to pressing danger- oh, for a sheep-clad wolf right now.
He presses the flock nearer the gorge, and mutters a tally to himself.
Frantically flailing arms, flinging flustered sheep to a momentary reprieve.
Ovis aries, if not here, I’ll gather you there. There. Away from danger.

As the leering, sneering, drooling pack
Of wolves-in-peoples’-clothing drew nearer still.
With the last- free in the knowledge that the flock were
though somewhat shaken- at rest, and out-of-reach.

Emboldened with fear, assured of his wings,
the Shepard threw himself across the chasm.
The bandits grew quiet- approaching no more.
They did not care for flying either…

There is nothing more dangerous than to leap a chasm in two jumps. – David Lloyd George

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