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4

All the long haze through
the beaters tread the ripe grass down.
Another pheasant whirs into the valley
and the punctuating clamour of shots.

The gentlemen send their dogs off
to the fallen bird. The bird, wounded and dying,
stumbles through the long grass briefly.
One dog returns to its master with the body.

But where has Diana been all day?
She was not there at dawn when we assembled.
She promised, she promised.

Queen and huntress, nestled into the arched back
of your favourite ride, who so list to hunt,
I know where is an hind.