Kaya

High  above the  valley the old causeway 

Runs  across  the northern hills from east west

A stony lane leads  off to the  farm below

In the old wall a gap stile lets me squeeze into the wood

Now in days of the old winter, its dark beneath the evergreen, 

she runs ahead,  white and  brown under the  trees

dancing on the pine needles that carpet the ground.

One leap takes her to  the bank of the fast clean running beck

A water in the tongue of the peoples here.

She  laps the cool water, leaps  back and  off again

flag waving tail , shining in the gloom, a whistle

and she turns  and hurtles toward us laughing,  

plants a muddy paw on my clean jeans and  off

weaving through the dark conifers, following her nose

excitement, in every  glance , every smiling look back at us

One last run to Redmires Water before it falls

into the ravine too steep even for her.

 

The wood ends and the open moor field opens in front of us,

scattered with great slabs of millstone grit, dry but cold

I perch for a while on the broad surface of the rock

And she  flies down the field,  no  farm animals  here today, 

a narrow path leads down the field,  but not for her

The tussocks of moor grass are full of precious scents

here one - there another, soon she is  almost out of sight,

but ever and again  there she is,  the shining white and brown

winking in and out of the grassy mounds. 

I call,  and suddenly  the sense  of  speed and dog

coalesce in the streaking  joyous animal  running to me.

Praised, rewarded she dances  up and around me as we return to the wood

Retracing our path,  thirsty, as soon as she can

she  drinks deeply from the cold running water,  jump ups the other bank,

has a quick nose  before leaping the whole width of the brook,

landing on the soft carpet next to me.

 

Two years she has been on this earth and all is well,   she doesn’t worry

unless we  are five mins late with her tea,

unless we are upstairs, because then she greets us as if we have been to Ulan Bator

unless we  have forgotten it is time for her treat and then the sadness of God is in her eyes as she  lies her head in front  of me.  She is lying on the sofa, warm against my leg,  head on my knee, her deep brown eyes  looking  across the room, gently closing.

Gently sleeping  till another of her favourite people comes in, all is joy and greeting again