The Dog Walker

She knows when I switch off the desk lamp

stretches and dog smiles.

Ours is a simple pattern,

footsteps threading through weathered days.

 

On the trail not much changes but for the seasons.

Her impeccable presence. Earth’s holy indifference. My distracted push.

 

Eventually, eyes closed I breathe till I wake up.

Hear the hollow rattle of winter trees,

trickle of water under ice and snow.

 

This feels good. We play two stick toss and fetch.

 

Approaching the car, she drops the stick,

falls in beside me, sits and we cross the road.

 

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6 thoughts on “The Dog Walker

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