Grass far into the distance
A wind fluttering the blades green to pale
like waves on an ocean
Patcha tended the sheep
As his father and forefathers had done
since before man carved symbols into stone
Patcha was born in a pasture
a pasture of knee-high grass
with sheep slowly gathering
curious
The sheep were settling in for the night
Ewes dropping their bellies into the rich soil
Patcha slowly walked among them
stroking their ears as they passed him for comfort
each one grunting a recognition
The guard dogs running and barking at each other
far in the distance, scouting a distant treeline
Patcha sat cross legged on the hillside, the cool of night filled the air
His favorite ram, Kot, approached him, and offered a hoof. Patcha smiled and took the hoof in his hand, squeezing it lightly. Kot curled into a repose next to Patcha.
The shepherd and his favorite sheep watched the herd
They felt the sun sink and the dew bead
The half-wild dogs came back, tired and low
Kot’s head now in his lap, Patcha said ” I never really knew my father,” and Kot rolled his little sheep eyes. He’d heard this before but he’d humor him.
“I suppose he didn’t think of himself as a father, so he wasn’t one. It’s a heavy mantle. It’s something most people can’t just fall into,” Patcha said, pulling a pouch of tobacco from his belt. He began to roll a cigarette. “Sometimes people can do it, but even when people try to prepare for it, they find themselves-” he licked the cigarette closed “-not ready.”
Patcha continued, “I think of myself at his age. I didn’t know anything. I was always nervous, pretending to have some inner strength. Maybe if you put up the facade, if you play the role long enough, you become what you’re pretending to be, I don’t know…”
Kot asked, “Hey man can I get a drag of that?”
“Yeah of course,” and Patcha let Kot hit his cigarette.
” So for a long time it was like a sliver. It was a thing in me that I didn’t want there, that would probably be easy to pluck out but I wondered how I ever let it pierce me in the first place,”
“BAAAAAAA!” said a couple of sheep. Patcha rose up a bit, and surveyed the twilight field. With his sharp eyes, he saw that a couple of sheep had just seen a toad hopping around and had become frightened by it. “It’s fine, it’s fine!” he called, waving his hooked shepherd staff around. The sheep soon were settled and laying down once again.
“Fuckin’ toads, man,” said Kot.
“Yeah, so I think it’s human nature to assign significance to everything in your life. My father knocked up my mother when he was a young guy, didn’t have it in him to become a father-familyman type guy, and I assumed this had something to do with me. It’s understandable, right?”
Kot nodded, now dipping his head to eat a dandellion.
” And my, I guess stepfather, Krop, has been a constant friend and a huge part of my life. So I’m not completely sure what I’m getting at,” Patcha said. “But I feel like if I had a child somewhere out in the world, I’d do a lot to make sure they were doing okay. That they were comfortable. That their life was decent. I’d be interested in their life, in their experience here on fuckin’ planet Earth. You dig?”
“We’ve got a saying in the sheep community,” Kot replied. “Yesterday’s grass.”
“Yesterday’s grass,” repeated Patcha. “I like it. What’s it mean?”
“Just what it says.”
The last gust of wind rippled over the grass, ceding to the royal blue tones of the night. The sheep were closing their eyes and sleeping. The distant trees were strangely still.
” Can you forgive someone you don’t know? Can you forgive an idea?”
” I don’t think forgiveness is needed. You get it, kinda. That’s good enough.”
Kot shifted, sheep hooves dancing a three-point turnaround, and Patcha was surprised by how quickly he turned around.
“Hey!” Kot shouted, “I’ve got an idea that’s gonna make us both rich!”
“Yes?” Patcha said
“Ewetube.”
