Sunday, June 14, 2009

Dog Day afternoon

I am nearly fifty years old
falling asleep
holding the paw of my dog
but time rolls back
40 years
and I am ten years old again
holding the rough pad,
of another dog;
the feel is the same
smooth nails
coarse fur
pads rough from miles of running
the smell is that wonderful
mixture of rain damp dog
earth and musk
toes that smell like corn chips
dog breath warm on my cheek
he nuzzles closer
pressing against me
a heavy sigh
as he settles
in for our Sunday nap
We are safe
as the storm swirls about us.
It doesn't matter whether I am
10 or 50
for now
for this timeless moment
caught between two worlds
linked by two dogs
I rest easy.