Returning to Earth
It’s not hard to believe
my dog is a small god
leading me, at four in the morning, into this winter field.
It’s where she wants to go,
and isn’t desire holy?
The furrowed earth beneath my boot heels,
is soft enough to keep the silence.
Moonlight falls around us,
wraps us in her silver shawl.
A diaphanous frost glows back,
tiny frozen stars sparkling up from the ground.
Those stars, the sky, the field, it’s
all moving, spinning through time,
despite the illusion of stillness.
Sadie, my sweet girl,
I’m as awake now as you are,
the two of us walking and riding,
on this ocean of land and sky.
I’d like to take us out farther
to the ghost trail in the stars,
but I’m only a man with a dog,
her nose to the ground.
She knows better than I do,
this is enough,
this here and now.
Enough to be wondering
like children,
what comes next?
What we can see
is each breath in front of our faces,
white prayer flags unfurling
into the night,
each prayer answered
by the one that follows.
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