He was quartering the field

up and down, down and up

gripping a metal detector

intent, determined, unwavering, bowed,

concentration etched into his face.

Watched by a woman leaning on the fence

impassive, silent

like him, in her fifties

waiting

They did not know I was watching

fascinated

to see what they would find

to see why it was important

to know more about this mysterious couple

After an hour, they exchanged their first brief words

He took a drink from her flask

silently, unsmiling

then plodded back to his task

I left the couple then,

my legs complaining at the long pause in their use

and took them off to the bilberries and heather

By chance I heard the end of the story

He was looking for his wedding ring

thrown in an unseeing rage.

And, extraordinary as it may seem,

he did find it.

What did he feel as the ring met his eyes?

Was it relief, was it the hunter's triumph?

Was it love, was it his Precious?

Was he glad to avoid the cost of replacement

of ring

or woman?

Did he think “found it quicker than last time” ?

Was he glad to put it on again?

What did she think, this sphinx of a spouse?

Was she glad, did she smile?

Did she say well done?

Did they hug, did they cry?

Did they say never again?

Were they happy?

I would like to think that they were happy.