x
Biscuit in hand
He turns to the door
Expectantly,
Head tilted, softly hooked finger pointing:
“Haait”
x
I crouch, imploringly
Looking into his questioning face
Seeking to explain;
Words my only weapon against the searing sadness.
x
See also: An ode to Harriet
See also: An ode to Harriet
envirohistory NZ 