The Shepherd's Choice Poem by Michael P. Johnson

Some stand some sit some kneel some laze
Some mill around for fun
Some sheep will in a pasture graze
Before the midday sun


At times they seek to rest a while
Contently stroll the land
Rising to walk an extra mile
Beneath The Shepherd’s hand


They’ll forage in the fertile glades
Pausing to look around
They’ll nibble on odd selected blades
On tender flower found


Constant a babbling brook runs near
Inviting to it’s flow
Quite safe the flock devoid of fear
Can drink where’re they go


The Shepherd keeps the wolf at bay
The buzzard swoops in vane
Even the sheep that err or stray
Return to graze again


Always The Shepherd stands in view
Beyond the same old tree
From dusk until the morning dew
His watchful eyes can see


His eyes are like a burning flame
His feet like glowing brass
Yet all the sheep He knows by name
Can safely chew the grass


Such calmness in the sky above
Such warmth within His voice
The sheep can feel The Shepherd’s love
And make His way their choice