THE BLACK SHEEP

A Saturday as so many others. A slow start, I guess, some music to soften the heart, reading one or two poems, and a chapter in a book on Renaissance painting. Before long lunch has to be enjoyed.
After lunch a nap. Piet Hein anyway.
Then time to go for our walk, before we will buy food in the supermarket.
The sun is shining, that is wonderful, but look, she stands above the hill and will disappear behind it. There are some amazing clouds around her.
I try to get a picture of the enormous dragon that seems to want to devour the sun. But no, it did not work after all.
 We walk along the Weser, to the meadow where the sheep live.
There is only one sheep that greets us. Months ago this one, then still so little, came to us and we handed her grass that grows at the other side of the fence, that seemingly has more taste and is longer too.
It is clear that she is forever thankful and recognize us from far.
It seems a ritual now. With our hands we cut the grass, give it to her and after a while we leave. Sometimes she walks with us as far as she can. Not today, however.
On our way back we experience that the wind is strongly blowing and is much colder than we had anticipated for.
My extra photo shows some trees along the river.

My haiku:

A loving eye has
The possibility to
Melt and soften one's heart

And the proverb:

No extreme will hold long.

1616  Breton,  Cross. Prov.