Miners Dog

An old, dying miner as seen through the eyes of his pet dog.

High home summer hill
straining, sucking, sitting
staring, stopped and stick-
a pit-prop tight and gripped.

the trees across the valley
much higher than he can go now.

I pant to reassure him
in time with his withered eyes.

his tongue, tombed gritty green

he’s faithful, though he’s fading
bones in death-grey jumper
where will he lead me next?