Vasco walks the bounds

inclines his huge old head

extending invitations to patrol.

Vasco is tallest

black as new tarmac

sunblasted like old stones.

What stories he could tell,

what bonds of brotherhood he could recount:

oldest, strongest, wisest.

Soon he will sleep by moist pebbles,

in dappled shade,

in sight of the old bridge.




Midi-Pyrénées, August 2010

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