The View from Here: where sheep may safely graze

I climbed the stairs this morning to a rosy, frosty sunrise.  No mist today, and the fields had a coppery hue as the early golden sunshine bounced off the bejeweled grass.  The air was still.  It too had a metallic quality to it: a sharp rawness.  The morning was unruffled and tranquil.  As were the sheep across the valley.  They were clustered close when I first stood watching them: patient and docile.  But as patches of green turf appeared within their bronzed dominion, individuals peeled away from the flock and spread steadily: seeking out the creeping sunshine with its promise of warmth on their fleecy flanks and softer morsels on which to chew.  The sun spread, the sheep spread; the copper and bronze retreated.  Soon we had sheep freckling the fields under crisp, unclouded skies.  We have an ovine view at the moment.  And as I watched, and the sheep settled on this gentle April morning, the scene took on the qualities of a bucolic painting.  The view from here is harmonious, breezeless and beautiful.