They often wear one color, a
solid color, chosen by the master.
This color reflects.
It actually reflects for safety. Just
like sealed meat in the depths
of a moldy cellar.
I’m being serious.
This young fellow (or woman)
gather metal specimens for a living.
Stop—this is to be highly praised.
I am pleased, just pleased with their
work. My eyes latch over thanksgiving
feast thanking the cart gatherers.
They are called the cart gatherers, right?
I love their orange hats and dark blue gloves.
They do me a great service indeed.
I take these things for granted too often.
It’s like how I take my nails for granted.
They protect my fingers like tiny
hard hats—that in reality can’t be yellow.
I take care of my nails don’t worry.
Oh son, one will loose its way—it is ever
so inevitable. Like
sheep they are.
Take care my dear fellow shepherds.
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