The Man and The Dog

I saw a man
and then I heard this dog.

The sounds were coming from somewhere around me,
it was early in the day.

The dog was howling
as if in great pain. It sounded like someone was taking him away
to be beaten or tortured

or killed, and this man lumbered up the hill, dog at his side;
this was the dog to me. This was the man.

But then I saw this dog, whose sounds were coming from
everywhere in the morning,

and, oh, it was not
the dog but the man whose bark I heard, whose howl,
and everything was calm in my mind.

Time swayed together, this dog was old
as was his man, and they went up the hill together,
lumbered up the hill.

The holy
leaves were the ones who howled, and it was this
voice reminded me of that man I knew lumbering up the hill toward

the easy sun, who welcomes
the dog’s
face.