Little Mutter was her name,
scrappy dog of many scars.
She lay with me that first night,
trembling in my arms with fright.
Something in my heart broke loose,
blossomed in the bonding salve,
high romping in spirit flights
in the garden of delights.
Then life took a sudden turn,
ships signaling a new land.
Lay her down in sackcloth brown,
and sailed half the world around.
Bones now lie in roots entwined,
feeding branches to the skies,
memos sent on ocean swells:
“all is well, friend, all is well.”
Dark Night And Sun Rise
Dark Night and Sun Rise
came from distant lands,
a Doberman and a Dingo,
prowling around in limbo.
Life was rough then,
girl roaming hippie parks
astride a lover’s Harley bike,
world of hard rock and other highs.
Took to the hills when I could,
canine friends leading the way
to where frontier airs
filled my lungs with sun flares.
Freedom alone is a burning fire,
but Dark Night and Sun Rise
taught me to love in mystic guise,
kissing the sun with my eyes.
I find them now on higher ground
looking ahead to regions wild
where I too now stand at night
shoulders draped in rays of light.
I hear you barking from fields beyond,
see you bounding up the slope ahead,
my pulse quickens to be with you again.
Wild and winsome in our youth
we ran the hills abreast,
yet I still surge forward on the quest.
You came to me a whimpering pup,
then made me laugh with your swagger.
You grew into a swift tracker,
spanning that liminal space
between the wild and the civilized.
Together we fled the lowland strife,
found respite on the oaken slopes.
When you bounded after deer,
inside my ribcage I beat the drum
until you were all done.
Together in that liminal divide
of the civilized and the wild
you taught me with your eyes
what no human ever taught
with the babble of their tongue:
that the chase alone
is reason for living,
not the catch but the joy
of keeping in sight
the quivering haunches in flight.
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