the eraser

The Eraser


As I came to a low stonewall
on my daily walk
I saw before me a landscape painting,
Eighteen sheep and twelve lambs I counted;

as I thought who the painter might be,
there was a sudden blur in the air,
and when the picture cleared there
was a Jenny and its foal;

five wooly backs had disappeared;
and yes the painting looked better,
but I didn’t linger, I wouldn’t like the artist to
think I was a part of his picture