2006-06-04 - 7:13 p.m.
Walking the Dog
An old apple tree
remains as good a place for thought
as any, its fruit
being fertile ground.
Already it is spring;
sap is stirring
dead wood to life,
yet I feel only a loss of feeling
for the world.
While Mac Duff sniffs and waits,
I contemplate Adam’s good fortune
to have had God
out looking for him
rather than the other way
around. Nevertheless, I think
we are still the caretakers
and so move on, checking
empty bird boxes, tapping
them first in a prudent way
before peering inside.
At the end of the line
I lean on a fencepost
beside a green pasture
and imagine what it would be like
to live here,
but my mind is already home
and I turn, and Duff leads,
happy to know the way.
