Wild Dog
She was as interested in my reactions as I was myself
There was a flicker of recognition that might save her life.
How far back in her memory is that connection with man,
Escaped from close contact, lurking down little used tracks
Living on road kill and culled ferals. She knew what I was thinking
About the power of life and death, choices that exist
Between instinct and knowledge, sixty seconds of possible outcomes.
I lifted the drop gate and said, ‘today you go free, but remember
To kill only for food and to give thanks when you do’.
Relieved that my decision was made, I realised that
It might easily have gone a less poetic way.
Was this the last of the blood letting? Probably not,
ewes normally with twins, were left with one, lambs killed
and not all eaten. Eventually someone got her, can’t have loose dogs.