Meditation on Dogs

They growl a bit of trash talk

and move swiftly side to side.

White teeth blur, mouths agape.

Furred bodies parry and stop.

Breathe.

With a start again, little one leaps.

Lanky one follows onto the bed,

sheets and pillow sent askew.

He counts for barely a third of her.

She accounts for mass and movement.

Little one prattles a high pitched verse,

song of abandon, joy in the conflict.

Lanky one takes hold of his voice,

never pressing, just pretending.

She rolls; he pins; they stop.

Breathe.

They pull their bodies side to side,

push their boundaries just to see.

He darts under, then over her.

She bows, then barks.  Ballet.

They are in a place I cannot go.

So, I watch. I wonder.

Everything else slips away.

Breathe.

- MB

 

Drawing by April Murphy

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