Daisy knows the art of running on. Out on a walk, I call her to me. Up she runs, pauses (she is looking for a treat), and then runs on. Again and again she does this. From far off across the field, I watch her set her course toward me – only to stay for a second and run on. It is a form of enjambement, I say to her. The course you set is a line of poetry and this pause its end. But the pauses, though barely perceptible, come to surround me. I start calling Daisy back to them more and more, interested to see if she will stop for longer this time. If she stays, I think, something will have been brought to a close. There will be some kind of meaning. But Daisy skips over the end of the line and runs on.