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Saturday, February 23, 2013

old dog

she stares at me with eyes clouded by the past.

nose alert
haunches trembling
with anticipation for a time that once was
and might be again:
around the nearest corner,
under the fallen leaf,
or in the sound of my step.

is that pain
inhabiting the place
where once the bounce before running lived?
or is it merely the memory
of chases gone wild
toward oblivion
the ones that abandoned all training
and returned her to
that primitive
wolfish life
that beat inside
all along...

or, come to think of it,
can she now see more clearly?

is she unbounded
toward
that life
that self
that animal
that she was waiting to be

living

for the moment,

the instant when sunlight breaks in the piney morning,

the first bird leaves the nest,

the smoke scent rides the air,

and the rabbits are at last,
as they should be,
running far afield

waiting to be chased?

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