There he flits through oiled daylight,
across black hills, down deep raw paths.
He roams his veil of linen cloth,
then stops, surveys to sniff
His eyes sink - striving down towards
where once his purple collared wife
had rested, waiting foolishly,
in hope their paint will bleed.
Sunset haunts her traveller.
His detailed ribs exert themselves
and make his paws proceed.
His floppy ears are not deceived!
The husband strands,
I see him grieve.
They hang apart:
express their calm