by Andrew Najberg<\/p>\n
Let\u2019s look at it this way: Getting it right by Andrew Najberg Let\u2019s look at it this way: we are shepherds on the hillside. Maybe we are at leisure with our crooks rested at our feet, and finger perhaps a flute or a scrap of paper, forgetting the sounds of cities, pumping engines, chains clanking, crane hydraulics extending wrought hooks. We […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/s6Jypy-4336","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4336"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4336"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4336\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4336"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4336"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4336"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/code><\/p>\n
\nwe are shepherds on the hillside.
\nMaybe we are at leisure with our crooks
\nrested at our feet, and finger perhaps a flute
\nor a scrap of paper, forgetting the sounds
\nof cities, pumping engines, chains clanking,
\ncrane hydraulics extending wrought hooks.
\nWe don\u2019t remember the color of sirens
\nor the sound of police lights, and attempts
\nto recall bring more clover on the wind,
\nsucculents flowering on the hillside just up
\nthe path from the well. Soon, it will be time
\nto lower the bucket, to think towards
\ntending the fire. While the sheep stir
\nin the pen, we\u2019ll stir the coals with iron.
\nIn a timid kindling glow, a lamb crying softly
\nthrough one window, one of us will look
\nto the other and say, We\u2019ve been going
\nabout this gig all wrong. If we castrate a rat,
\nand tie a bell around its neck, sheep will follow it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"