New Deer Sheep

To my surprise, a sheep's eye Is not round. The pupil is quite triangular, Almost angular. So when it looks at me What does a ewe see? I must look like a pyramid Or a wandering wedge. My cousin, its master, the farmer, Must look like a chisel edge Coming to chip it out of its Cubist flock. A New Deer ewe's a woolly, walking block With triangular eyes... A fleece of crumbly chalk Amongst acres of permed sheep, A field of woolly leapers, A grizzled matriarch stamps, Stands her ground like a tug at anchor. Her flanks, butted by lambs, Her back, mounted by rams. Her eyes click off and on Like two car side lights; Her woolly heart is fluttering like a fan At this new smell on legs so near her young. Her lamb leaps two feet happy. New Deer, a melting moment in March, Spring on four legs has sprung.