I left the flock,
wandered far into the hill country
leaving the ninety-nine to themselves.
Surely, the shepherd would not miss me.
I slipped out of a purse
before my mistress would hand me over to a merchant.
Surely, the nine other coins
would suffice her needs.
So, I’m the lost sheep, the lost coin
alone in MY loneliness until suddenly
I heard a shepherd’s call
and I felt a broom in search of me.