Little shelter
on this roof
for an old dog
The wind that surrounds
the roof
goes through the dog
makes daily sounds
birdish
accompaniments
to her wobbly processional
The four months I've lived here, the dog herself has never uttered a sound.
I coax her close, stroke her bony nose, give treats.
Tonight, stumbling into
my hands I stand her,
feel her warmth, under
fur the color of a thin fire.
