Little Ode to Taking the Dog Out
The last trip to the yard
for the night, temperature
not minus anything just now.
The day, having lost
its train of thought,
clung to twilight
like a lamprey. It’s more
or less shadow anyway,
slide with it.
The dog sniffed the catalog
of each leaf: species and genus,
parent and grandparent
with no regard to religion
or geopolitical passion.
She’d sniff cabbages and fennel
that hold entire futures
in their seeds. She ambled,
storing backyard histories
and liturgies in her
miracle of a dog brain.
She pantomimed
for a drink of water.
źródło: Read A Little Poetry
10.09.2026