Almost invariably, I'd answer, the poem, and so far as this blog is concerned, images are a postscript, sought and selected to complement the written word.
There are, however, exceptions, and here is one of them.
I found this vintage image and knew immediately that it warranted a poem.
Whether or not this short poem does it justice is for you to decide.
I suspect the shepherd, wherever he may be, will not care a jot.
SHEPHERD
He keeps sheep on the high hill,
has two dogs, one young, one old,
hands that look ten years older
than the skin on his white back,
a sharp eye for weather, ear
for harp-wind in the tall trees.
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