Some impressive photos by Tonya at Fourth Generation Farmgirl struck a chord with me, and I remembered a short poem I wrote many years ago.
So with Tonya’s permission, here are two of her pictures and my sheep poem.
The sky is a blue meadow overhead
Where the wind rounds up his flock of clouds.
Below, fat fluffy cushions scattered on the green hillside,
The sheep graze
While the shepherd watches and smokes his pipe.
The dog at his master’s feet waits for a word.