What if you were told
-- by God himself --
that this boy
was doing the best he can?
A boy his age
longs for company
especially on long
windless summer days
longs to be relieved
of his duties
by an exciting
even terrifying
event
or in extremity
by an occasional
white lie
Why blame the boy,
when it was you who chose
day after day
to send out a watchman
you were no longer willing
to believe?
Any way this ends
frustration or disaster
don't be surprised
to hear him cry
"wolf"