A soggy old man, groggy with sleep, heads towards his tumble- down cottage.
His eyes looking around frantically for his lost calf; ‘ho! Ho! Ho!’  He bellows.
Some vague impulses, some wayward fancies, some laughable absurdities,
and recurrent revelries, whirl in the mind of this soggy, old shepherd.
A twig between his chipped and discolored teeth, breathing
in sporadic bursts, eyes fixed at a beetle, predator-like.
There is the gentle, soothing tinkle of a goat’s bell,
his eyes light up, looking around frantically,
a benediction springs to his lips,
easing a crick from his neck
rubbing a nervous tic, he
gropes for his stick,
finds it, then he
hobbles forth,
stumbling.
Shouting 
happily.
Baba’,
bleats
the
calf.
Says
he,
ho
ho
ho
ho
ho
ho
Ho
ho
ho!
ba
ba
ba
ba
says
the
lost
one
in
joy
.