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The German shepherd
at the bend in the drive
has come to know my voice
Even more than my voice
has come to expect me
Early each morning
he lies in the wet grass
at the end of his long chain
awaiting my dark shadow
to emerge out of night
Was a time when
my scent would cause
his hair to stand up erect
lips to curl a dark snarl
voice to breathe death
We began to talk then
Actually I talked He listened
uncertain of my frame of mind
of my pity for things chained
what leash might be mine
As days passed into weeks
his charge on the chain eased
He showed less teeth less breath
Once I even saw his tail wag
But only once & not far
He lies there now
in the wet grass waiting
not even lifting his head as I pass
but eyes locked like a scope
on my shadow passing
Poet's Corner 