dogtrax

Would the moon make a song if it knew I were the only one listening?

I think of the sound it might sing to me, as my dog puts her nose touching the ground on the first morning walk,

my boots and her paws beating rhythm on ice and snow, waiting on a melody

for #ds106

An ode to Janus begins with an open door, closing behind us

Dance to the rhythms of the ocean's push and pull; watching beach plovers

A scarf full of threads, woven from the memories of each year, instead

Here, stories sparkle nested in constellations in the night's clear sky

just a moment behind the blues note bend

she takes a breath to begin again

a songbird calls, somewhere in a softened wood

two notes, dancing the space where the oak tree stood

for Steve

Art, a frozen slip of water off a slant roof; sculptured icicles

The cold's soon coming on the heels of a jet-stream; uninvited guest

Warm beds bring slow things; a poem, delayed, makes its way, folded into day

for Algot

An old Kenmore stove, all rusted and unplugged, left here for the rewilding deep inside the grove of trees

the discarded metal remains of someone's kitchen, and to think of the trouble it took to cart it here and dump it here

and the memories it contains

for #ds106