The wind it tiptoes frigid ripples across the steaming lake
Carrying your voice familiar echoing urgent in its wake
I raise my head from snow enigma strange to sniff the air
The call of old conflicts to raise my hackles spike my hair
But trust alone in your caring hands cannot begin to wipe away
The ancient paths the packs the plays where yet my heart holds sway
To run and run and bite and bitch my legs to stretch howl free
To see the wild and bitter truth that blood and bone decree
Your voice once more the air does ride my name upon its wave
And hesitation looking back the hunger taste I try to save
And turning back I flee the past and cast the memory loose
And bound on legs that tremble not my collar not my noose
I hound toward your waiting shape all hunched against the cold
And circle wide to come around avoid the leash you hold
But knowledge seeps the waiting meal the warmth of fireside
I submit once more my loyalty to the hand that pets my hide
6 comments:
I would tell you how much you hurt me
But that could prove you don't care
So I lap up the bones that you throw me
And make do with this one way affair
Your use of strong, fresh and original images makes this poem rock. Happy Solstice to you poet. I stopped by to see what cliff you were poised on today.
Happy Solstice.
Greg: thanks for the harmonious howl - domestication stills the gut while the call tugs at the mind.
Princess: Happy Solstice to you too - the edge is strangely sparse these days; domestic and professional considerations have perhaps inspired mutiny here on the eerie. Thanks for your words.
That is right inside the mind of my dog. I see him recite that every time I call him to me...
Wonderful imagery and powerful rhythm in these words, Pisces. I am somehow reminded of my grandmother, who, while married to my grandfather, described herself as a bird in a gilded cage.
Wishing you all the very best for the solstice and the festive season.
i come back and find you still brilliant
Post a Comment