sheep at large in city center
unshorn and hungry
packing knives and forks
counting down the days
until january thaw
beat cops in woolen coats
keep them on their toes
tapping night sticks on
frozen sidewalk
nudging them along
nearby sanctuary house
opens its arms
practicing what it preaches
the good shepherd himself
promising warmer days ahead
december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
She wore a cotton dress on a warm
and sunny day
slightly off-white and sleeveless
complementing and accentuating
her light brown skin
He wore his casual Sunday best
strolling along
white button-down oxford shirt
starkly contrasting pleated charcoal slacks
creased perfectly
Sitting on park bench imagining
her breathing slows
her inner thoughts pressing on
unaware of sights and sounds passing by
before her eyes
From out of the fold he reappears
like a lost lamb
wandering most aimlessly
a blot on the vastness of her dreamscape
off-black yet bright
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they awaken on sundays
and praise the one who gave them life
they put on their finest clothes
and take to the streets
huddled together like little lambs
moving at the command of their shepherd
who leads them down the narrow way
toward the altar of life
as they march they recite
words from the ancient book
raising their hands
toward the open sky
asking for forgiveness
and vowing to repent
when the hour comes
to prepare the table
they shamelessly offer
the most innocent
as an imperfect sacrifice
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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