Of a finicky nose that sniffed his hand:
So now they burrow, and crop their meal;
Their fore-paws scatter him up in sand.
He loved old bracken, and now it pushes
Affectionate roots between his bones:
He runs in the sap of the young spring bushes,
—Basks, when a June sun warms the stones.
Jonathan Barlow loved his Connie
Better than beasts, or trees, or rain ...