dog day

1. Morning

We wake a little.
Her long borzoi paw shifts across my side
we resettle a bit, and sleep again awhile.


2. Later in the morning

If they need a bath, I try to go
to the beach first. It's April, so of course
everything is singingly perfect, each
heart-purple iris, each drop of golden sun.

There are beats in a dog's gait in which they hang
suspended in air, weightless
without gravity.

3. Afternoon

I don't know why they act so surprised.
At this point, they know a gallop over sand
leads inevitably to soaked fur
and all the grooming products.

4. Magic

After every hair of a sheltie's coat has been brushed
carefully in a line down the dog's body
magic happens. There are new
dimensions of softness, of delight in touch.
This alert and supervisory little beast
can be a cloud of eiderdown.

Magic, the cat, demands her due and may
claim brushing when she likes. This process
takes some time; she gives
the dog a rest.

5. Night

We're soft, it's late. Green spring
wrapped around us; we smelled the air. We ran,
We lived today.
She settles her foreleg across my shoulders
my eyes against her throat. We rest.