The Very Best old Dog

Pale light of dawn trying, rolling over in bed and pushing snooze

before the work of hurdling the mountains

The faint light sounds like an indrawn breath,

held in pregnant expectation of all the busy that is to come

Silent is the street, dogs nails click on the pave

numb earlobes, sentries reporting the true temperature outside of the puff of down

Poetry swirls, words found and dropped with each step

They the property of that driveway, that sidewalk

not to be trapped and committed to that single line

My eyes long to tell the taste of the color blue

Each step closer to the real day starting

sorting through the definition of business casual in santa fe

My hilarity is shared with it’s most profound audience

a glance over the shoulder at the bed of clouds and dreams

A warm body and the offer of being the big spoon could derail

even the most stalwart of intentions for the day

Gratefully odd and oddly grateful not to wrestle with that decision

the second mug of coffee and the purging of prose

the scent of the collective consciousness awakening and beginning the day with me

I never feel alone when the old dog is my sole companion

we chew on this early silence together