Do this one thing for me, mirr said. Talk to the sheep. Do this one thing before I go to sleep.
We asked a black sheep; if he would distinguish between right-left and right-wrong. He did not answer.
We asked a white sheep; if he could repay the loan on madness. He did not answer.
We asked a blue sheep; if he had an eraser for the shadow of doubts. He did not answer.
We asked a pink sheep; if he knew how to deposit on grief. He did not answer.
We asked a grey sheep; if he would blot out the memory of tears. He did not answer.
We asked a brown sheep; why nosheep answered. He did not answer.
We turned to mirr, because it was easier for us to blame somesheep else than being reflective for a moment. You said talk to the sheep! We did! Nosheep answered! What’s up with that, huh? Spill!
But before he could tell us that he told us to talk to sheep, instead of asking questions, he was already asleep.