This is not the look of the curious. This is the face of concern.
It is worry. No, it is fear.
This is the root of that fear.
This is the standoff that occurs a few times a day around here.
This is a good thing because the sheep had grown accustomed
to my face and my voice and thus they began to ignore
the boundaries that I had defined for them.
They needed to learn a little respect.
They needed to experience fear.
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