30 December 2005, 1:09 PM
Dark clouds roll
Grow gray and argue fervently
But do not wake the Shepherdess
Deep she sleeps as Lion creeps
In Lowlands grassy green and ringed
With Sycamores the Lost Ones weep
Another came to lead them home
Led them far afield
Among bare trunks and dry
Strewn leaves of Sycamores
The Shepherdess is sleeping
As mountains in the distance quake
She barely stirs
Branches far above her shake
Raped by angry winds which break
Against the boughs
But do not wake the Shepherdess
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