Saturday, November 14, 2009


Its the silence I feel first
murmuring flakes falling on my hooded form
I hear nothing save the shivering of my dog
this Saturday morning in late fall
snow has stilled the world
(as it often does)
pausing babel's tongues in reverent wonder.
I stoop to the dormant grass
gentle sussuring, so as to not disturb the cathedral
so new in my back yard
I coax my dog
urgent whispers tinkling the crystalline air
yet he is fix'd on the porch
finding in my puissant crouch instead a challenge to play.
this Boston rarely barks,
instead he snorts
and whuffling his reply
finally comes to me
we squat there on the grass
my hand on his able trembling chest
and listen to the silence of the snow


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