SHEEP DOG PASSING

by Alan Chesterfield

He said "You needn't wait

if you'd rather." and called the nurse.

"It's for the best." he said.

Whose best I'd like to know.

It's all very well for him,

all glass and stainless steel.

"It will be very quick." he said

and filled the syringe.

"There will be no pain." he said.

and clipped the hair above the vein.

Holding her, she licked my hand and

understood: anything would be a piece of cake

after nights of blizzards on the moors,

to pinpoint buried sheep, and rescue lambs.

Or, to a whistle in the noontide heat

outrun, collect and fetch far flocks.

From hills to lusher lowland grounds.

Her eyes reminded me of little things, shared

times to treasure, garnered over half a life.

"It's done." he said

and dropped the needle in the stainless bowl.

At peace she watched me, sighed, and slept.

Him, his glass and stainless world

said there would be no pain:

But he was wrong.

submitted by Slim Haines, UK

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