Eclogue from Boxcutter by Menchaca

Shadows long and shadows deep
The evening meadow is filled with sheep
The sun is low upon the dale
The dogs are barking at it from hell

And on the hill the wolves emerge
New born moonlight on their furs
Moving down the slope towards the flock
Shepard dogs are charging at their throats

And I miss you
And I wish you were home
And I think about you
Out there on your own

The Shepard’s chin is on his chest
He dreams of howls and trumpets
When he awakes the snow and blood
The wolves are gone the flock is dead

Walking down the open road
I met up with a man
Crooked as my walking stick was his soul
I shook his hand

Bodies tumbled into bodies
Towers tumbled for the camera
Glaciers tumbled into prairies
And the prairies fell in magma

And I miss you
And I wish you were home
And I think about you
Out there on your own

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