Shepherds
Sally Lawrence Jenkins
Sally Lawrence Jenkins is a retired middle school English teacher, a nature enthusiast,
an eager traveler, and a sometimes poet.
Her neighbor’s gait had slowed
And, though his meandering mind
Still flowed,
It wandered farther and farther
Beyond its well-worn banks—
Used-to-be efficient exchanges of niceties
Now stretched to sizeable chunks
Of priceless hours.
Yet she chose to invest
Even more of the treasure
Of her time—
Giving her ears and smiles and nods,
Lengthening her visits,
Shortening the minutes that remained
To attend to her own chores and meetings and self-indulgences . . .
With no regret.
Feed. My. Lambs.
The relative
With the worst track record
Continued to run out of gas
Along life’s journey
And make wrong turns
And have self-induced collisions.
Though he had judged and coached
And even “rescued,”
He finally settled on
Encouragement and affirmation—
Realizing, alas, that he was not
The driver, or even the mechanic,
Of another’s life—
His love, though,
Seemed to be
A mighty powerful fuel
When he offered it up as his gift.
Tend. My. Sheep.
Soulmates—
Double-Dutch partners in first grade,
Carpooling each other’s kids,
Providing lifeboats
In the turbulent storms of life.
Yet, fissures formed
In the bedrock of their friendship.
Somehow
They voted differently,
And mocked each other’s values
And championed characters
Whom the other found unreliable . . . or worse.
And when one argued, she felt mean—
And when one feigned agreement, she felt weak—
Until . . .
They decided to share the seesaw,
Each committing to listen
Each committing to challenge
Each committing to teach
And learn from one another
In the rich, unending classroom of life.
Feed. My. Sheep.
