Old Wolvang.

Through meadow whispering brook
and blinding streams he took
drank like starving alligator
or ancient discoverer
ember eyes glowing
water spilling out black lipped throwing
a dance and merry jig
whilst gnawing a thrown twig
or chase a rabbit or two
along wooded burrows through.
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Then home he would sit
like statue fit
on magic down
leering like demented clown,
and if I should sorrow
his head he would burrow
deep in my burden like heavy caress
taking it away in frolicking trespass
and return to his magic dreams
full of nightmare drowning streams.
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Deep that night without sleep
and to old Wolvang did creep
he lay sombre on his side
and his head he raised in such eyes wide
to say farewell dear friend my time has come
to leave you I must for my days where some,
a whimper and sigh as head fell like rock
and at the wall no tick came from our clock
but a chime still did make the hour
went through me like from bell tower.
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That night I slept none with grace
and at light did find a place
where Wolvang did bury his bones
dig deep did I to make him space
not so wooden glade or meadow fine
but enough to bide his time
and place him there like golden statue
with little cross made from bones he left.
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My days did pass with sorrow
to his bowl I would visit and borrow
his smell to mould together a shape
and lead hanging in sacred place
like memorial and holy space
of his time spent in natures way
black paws dancing night and day
we lived all we could
and made all we should
Farewell Wolvang you where the best! !
Farewell Wolvang you past every test! ! ! .
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