The Dog
The dog got out again last night,
running the woods under a moon
scantily veiled by thin black branches.
Today we cleared the fence line,
chopping through thick green grass and
vines of midsummer growth.
Down in one corner, the dog
had spun a nest from bent grass—
woven like a blanket.
The breeze slides through the tangled bed
of sweet summer scents, stirring deep longing
and a wish to run tonight with the dog.
Pamela Olson
Image is “Companion” by Rick Mobbs
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