The Old Hunter
He leaned on the fence with a thoughtful stare,
in his golden coat and long blond hair.
His mind looking back at the scenes of his past.
when his body was young and his paces were fast.
As he rested one leg and swished his tail,
with one ear cocked for the sound of his pail,
he remembered the hunt on a cold winter's day,
and the baying of hounds as they entered the fray.
And then, as he looked out over the land,
he saw her coming, bucket in hand.
A friendly pat, gentle scratch near his ears,
he had no regrets for the passing of years.
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