The Missing Collar

The sun does arise, On the valley sweet, The birds & pups wise, Call our kits to meet. The hoots & hollers, Sound loud for miles; Yet! Amiss is one collar, Lone in the Sky Isles. The sun does down, On the green hills tired, Lining the vale round, Our pets to bed retired. The whistles & purrs, Chime in the crisp wind. All but one bed stirs; Our dear numbers thinned. Long time does pass, Bleak winter does come, Hoar-frost is the grass, Warmed by a low hum. We stand together, Upon valleys sharp, Wond’ring: ‘just whether, You’re hearing, fain, the sky harp.’