Every night Knox goes

to the sliding glass door, spots

the same old dog who

grows and changes just as he

does, barks and invites him in.

JDG

I sit and watch as

the candle flickers and burns,

the wax and the day’s

tension slowly melting. I

only had to strike the match.

JDG

Sophira the cat

approached me for a pat, but

Knox did not approve.

He nudged her aside, then placed

his own head upon my lap.

JDG

The whitest of clouds,

the bluest of skies, mirrored

in stillest of ponds –

the air, neither hot nor cold,

smelling of harvested hay.

JDG

Knox stands at the door

watching as the grandkids leave.

Slowly he turns, goes

and gets his ball as if to say,

“Come on, gal. We can still play.”

JDG

They lived their lives in

a lofty place, but now those

once green leaves, shriveled

and brown, lie on the ground close

to the roots from whence they came.

JDG

We sit together,

Knox and I, as the sun sinks

past the horizon. 

It’s moments like this that take

the stings of the day away.

JDG

Watching the rain fall,

my mind goes to childhood

wonderings about

who turned on the giant hose

and sprinkler in the sky.

JDG

She thought big, stood tall,

made a new reality

by tending to what

 was before her even when

that seemed to be way too small.

JDG

Knox was invited

to two therapy sessions

today and after

a few minutes, he dozed off –

too much talk, not enough play.

JDG