The Day the Bulldog Saw the Kingfisher

A blue possibility
Beyond the dog’s life,
Skimmed to a charmed destiny
The dog could not imagine.

This light led where dogs can’t go:
A realm of the river’s shine and flicker,
Surfaces, depths, cool and nourishing.
His tongue told him so.

He could not voice freedom,
Being but a dog,
Yet glimpsed it
Speeding blue
On the water that day.

He did what dogs do:
Scratched, snuffled,
Went on with his doggy life,
Cocked his leg against a tree,
Stayed on his leash.

By Henry Berry

Common Kingfisher

Henry Berry lives in a rambling old house in the rural Vale of York, England. His writing focuses on external and interior, mental landscapes inspired by intimate contact with the countryside immediately around his home. His blog can be found at

Photo of Common Kingfisher by Mark Bridger

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