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Wolf in Sheep's Clothing by Lynn Hickernell
At the foot of a hill, tending his flock, the humble shepherd worked.
Standing eerily still, above on a rock, the hungry wolf lurked.
In order to remedy his malnutrition
He couldn't arouse the young shepherd's suspicion
With devious skill, eyes like a hawk, the clever wolf smirked.
Some stuff caught his eyes where the rock face was split; the wolf devised a plan.
It was just the right size required to outwit the beasts, and then the man.
An abandoned old sheepskin, battered and woolly,
Adjusted until it enveloped him fully,
At last his disguise had been perfectly fit; he breached the ovine clan.
He went undetected, awaiting his gluttony, 'neath the fleecy coat,
When the flock was collected that evening and put in its pen, he had to gloat.
Though the wolf had devised it, and plotted quite shrewdly
His costume was so verisimilitudely
The shepherd selected him, thinking him mutton, and cut his fluffy throat.
©2019 Lynn Hickernell