Peaceful at Last

"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep"
and doesn't really want to find them.

Precocial at birth, gregarious on earth,
running uphill in a flock.

Twice, chewing their food, seems kind of rude,
guess they just can't make up their mind.

Can't see quite clear, yet they can hear,
every whisper that blows in the wind.

Like little dominoes falling, there will be no crawling,
if they should land on their back.

Made of wool and not stone, can't stand alone
scared of the shadows and dark.

Little Boo Peep, can finally sleep,
now that the sheep-swarming grasses are quiet.

No longer must she heed, plead and nor feed,
or listen to them bleat endlessly ...