I watched two young shepherds grazing
Their sheep while the sun was blzing.
They seemed not to notice the heat,
Or the cracked ground under their feet,
What troubled them was the grass scarce,
Though whatever they found was a grace.
A furrowed path kept them apart,
Yet they refrained from taking part
In any kind of dialogue
Except for a dull monologue,
Or a warning to a naughty sheep
That ventured down the hill steep.
Then I had this realization
That the queer sounds they did say
While I was jogging up the way,
Were enough to communicate
With the animals or relate.
All their life long they just needed
Some funny sounds never heeded.
Actually I was so amused
Though different were the sounds they used.
Whatever they meant I couldn’t tell,
But all seemed to be doing well.
As for myself I was envious,
Much worse I was madly furious.
With all the gifts that God does give,
Why on earth can’t we in peace live.
With all the languages we speak
And the achievements every week,
Why can’t we tolerate each other
And communicate much better?
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