Dog control in Switzerland

‘Putain de merde, fils

d’un crapaud, va t’en salop’.

Harry and joggers.

‘Look into his face,

don’t you see a saga in his eyes?’

No, just doggerel.

Sprawled and splayed asleep,

whining about cockerpoos.

Harry the Hunter.

Harry at full pelt

sand is flying at his heels.

Surely the world slows.

In spring the dog takes

my hat, runs through the long grass.

A black skimming stone.