There is a puppy that stands sentinel here,
That sends its watch o’er the grey earth
And legion upon legion of dusty hacked shrub
And white ash falling as snow;
Breathes a wet tongue through crook of teeth;
With wiry flank, and paws now crossed
Lays in the twisted garden
Of paradise lost.

The days were long
Since the fruit forbade.
The world an infant – wailing! Cast out!
And since the trees had gone
So saw the white-burning sun:
The pup, arms crossed, tongue out
Eyes trained hard on the distant hills.

Until the master came,
Strolling by under the sun,
Unfurling the leash,
Reading the collar;
Until the tail would wag
And the tongue not cease greeting:
The paws stayed crossed.
And the eyes were waiting.