I thumb inside his big loose ears,

his eyelids descend to half mast.

A gentle paw rises to rest on my arm while

his breath, a sweet warmth, respires

from the deep hollow of divine conspiracy. Our history is

natural… my ancestors, and his, ran parallel lines

along game trails lacing

Pyrenean peaks, paddling Nova Scotia’s icy waters, searching

through the pass at Saint Bernard. His specieshood

distinct, dependence shared, such witness of

evolution, the wellspring of

creation. My dog, my God, my soul confer each day

we three walk the way of work and

friendship forged through need and care. I laugh when

he dances with simple joy, bucking bronco rearing,

twisting, rolling his exultant head in circles to say

“come play! come live!”.  Of all the creatures come to bless my kind, this


is my heart.

One thought on “Dog

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