My Dog Lady

My dog Lady cannot say, “Woof.”

She can bark, she can growl and whimper

But she cannot say, “Woof.”

She can leap, she can spin,

She can run and dart

And prance on two hind legs

Like a circus dog.

 

When an aroma moves her,

She will place two front paws on my thigh–

Her lovely mutt between–

And gaze at her master with rueful eyes.

But she cannot–for the life of her–

Say, “Woof.”

Day 18 – Lady

The recommendation was a poem that began and ended with the same word.  I thought I would begin with my dog Lady and end with her name, but I cannot say I really rule my poetry.  Anyone who writes knows that you never really know how this will end.  Sometimes the ends are forced, and sometimes they come; and the best often surprise me.

This is dedicated to Zen Master Wu Bong who passed away on the 17th of April.

Lady jaunts up the steps, and I follow

White bushy tail wagging

Brown patch on her rump, body white

With hair as soft as silk to my fingers,

And catch her paws at the first landing

On my blue-jeaned thigh just below the knees

We pause together, as we always pause,

My fingers stroke under her chin and on her brown forehead.

I ask, “Okay?” as if she might answer,

And wonder at the marvel of the moment,

Of love as simple as paws upon a leg,

The silent swish of a tail, and ebony eyes fixed

Upon her master who is as much her child.

Now – the moment held—the moment on the stairs

Neither before or after, my fingers graze her hair—

Give me a dog’s grace of being there. 

Two Cinquains

In a cinquain, the number of stresses per line is 1-2-3-4-1, and the number of syllables is 2-4-6-8-2. So the first line would have two syllables, one stressed and one unstressed. The second line would have four syllables, two of which are stressed, and so on.

Lady

Lies against my

Outstretched arm. My fingers

Caress her brow. Night has fallen.

She sleeps.

 

The wind

With sand between

Invisible teeth knocks,

A swept and helpless bird, against

The glass.