Painting the White Dog Black

A good stroke is in order
this midnight is incomplete
not enough and we'll be caught
too much and we'll be denounced


the dark track, the ghost exhales
an imprint of the spirit upon me
sacred ground and a thirst for sleep
the last ingredient is in the eyes

tragedy strikes with every step
the open mouth gasps in time
the wagging tail belies intent
the loose tongue hangs aloof

again a move, a false one now
who knows his plan at ease?
who sees him for what he is?
a hound like him, mercurial

pomp, steady pace, a groove
with no music, a clear rhythm
a clever spy need not hide
every move made is a mask

but what innocent purpose
what fascinating whimsy
that which has set this course
that which brings him here

the dawning sun signals us
we wait to strike, haste a mistake
the agent parades in unhindered
white dog caught at last

a sudden chilled wind
an imminent rainfall looms
and with each drop on white fur
black paws, black pavement, white puddle

and then, our folly unraveled
their duplicitous trail unveiled
the rain elsewhere discolors
a black dog dripping white discovered

and in his grasp, a surreptitious victory
and in his mouth, the stolen good
and in his step, a happy spring
and from the scene, an easy exit

[I wasn't going to post this coz I just wasn't satisfied with what I'd written and I don't like to post stuff I don't like but when I read into it I saw something I hadn't seen before and hated it a little less so here you go.]