Waiting for the shot

   
 
Mournful in the stubble field,      
shining black and golden beak     
cold late sun  glistening  barrels,      
orange cartridges, silent  ground,     
panting dogs wait for the 'fetch',    
drifting smoke and lead,    
Country sport raw in tooth and claw.      
    
A life-time now, alone and silent.      
Shining black and golden beak.      
Away she flew, dazed and careless      
to the lonely wood,waiting  the shot      
which did not come.