With the arrival of the gloaming
She first sees a lost lamb roaming
Appearing to be torn apart,
Narrowly missing a passing cart.
She steps into the cloak of evening shade
Wondering how this child will behave
He’s far from home, that much is clear
Yet his posture gives clue what he wants is near.
For her, a flicker of hope and doubt
Disciplined skill keeps her from crying out.
She’s failed once, that one far from pure.
The second time, she is still not sure
This child here, she’ll never scold
But rather heal his wounds and help him grow bold.