The shepherds were watching
Over their flocks, during the night.
It is nighttime, again,
And I wonder who the shepherds are,
The ones given the odd shift,
The ones given the duty few want,
The ones neglected by the merrymakers,
The ones unfit for greater responsibility
(and even greater remuneration).
It is nighttime, again,
And I wonder where the shepherds are,
What out-of-the-way place they’ve found
To do their work, make their livelihood.
Is it a place where they might be left alone?
Or is it a corner, where they might find just a bit
That someone else might leave over?
It is nighttime, again,
And I wonder who their flocks are-
Who needs, who depends,
On what little they can do?
George R. Pasley
December 8, 2021
Martin, TN
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