The sheep are grazing on the Downs;

one stops      for me to photograph it.

Close up      an earthy smell of dung,

and black eyes stare at me      alert.

It turns with a quick skip and trots off:

a woolly behind on deft hoofed feet.

Cumulus cloud drifts over verdant hills,

a steep descent to patchwork fields, and

a ribbon of river to the coast.      Sudden

breeze brings an autumn nip to the air… 
Eons later      I find the image on my phone:

a sheep with glass-black eyes

how an Italian might paint;

three-quarter profile, upright pose, ample bodied.

The eyes lock my focus,

but the background is blurred like mizzling,

the day has dropped

from my mind                         I am mesmerised

by the otherworldly gaze

of glass-black eyes.


Notes:

This is a notional ekphrastic poem.