Black Buck

The black buck looked at peace, serene, As tranquil as could be, With sideways glance at what was seen, And what he saw was me. I looked at him and he looked back, As both of us stayed still, With neither moving from the track, As if an act of will. I liked his markings here and there, His short horns and his ears, His thin-shaped legs made me aware That his form showed no fears. No forward motion taking flight, No worries in his eyes, No sudden cause to give him fright To take him by surprise. When Nature makes a man remain, To gaze and take sights in, It's like the man has much to gain, Some new insight to win. That's why the both of us could stand, Like statues made of stone, To comprehend, to understand, Contentment can be shown. Denis Martindale, the 28th of September 2022. The poem is about the magnificent painting by UK wildlife artist Stephen Gayford which was an early painting sold at Harrods, London.