Monday, September 14, 2009

Shadow

(Requiem for an old dog)
 
I was as ill prepared to send you off
As the hard-pan was to receive you.
Preparing your space 
was the hardest three feet I ever dug.

Throwing down the last shovel of earth
I thought about cultures that sent 
their loved ones onward with a gift:
something large or small, an aid for the journey.

I had nothing...
but I wrapped you
in the only gift I could find—
A worn sheet from afternoon naps.

Use it and sleep well, Shadow
And if dozing is not an option there

Throw off that rag and fly
across fields as in the days of your youth.
9/14/09