Walking along a track that descends slightly,
it also act as a stream in winters,
I came to a vista I knew was an idyllic painting,
olive trees, juicy green grass, poppies,
sheep that weren’t grazing and too white woolly;
a slight haze that made the picture enchanting.

Stopped, I have this fear of being stuck in a painting
incase the artist has another look and says:
don’t like this man and erases me.
Walked back up, turned for another look,
after all it was a lovely vista
and noticed that the painter had erased the sheep.