Numbered Days

The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web. ~ Mark Gattis

I catch her in a dream in
the cool mulch. She never hears

my steps, her nose engrossed in
tortured breath. Her heart is pure

love and she opens her blind
cataract eyes in surprise,

wagging her welcome, struggling
with these strange new lumps blocking

her joints. She can’t stand long. I
sink into the grass, sitting

for a spell–when I get out
of the way, energy flows

from my palms. She relaxes,
leaning her full weight on me.

Attention focused on the
road her human disappeared

down, three years ago. She keeps
her welcome ready though her

family is moving and
she’s worried she won’t make it.

Or is that me–sometimes this
dog-whispering is anguish.

She inches forward so my
pulse will warm her aching hips.

She heaves a sigh (it’s clearly
my grief I’m feeling, she just

emanates divine love, God
in dog skin.) When she was small

she broke free to visit each
house on this street, begging a

treat, a madcap revel to
celebrate connection. Fast

forward fifteen years to her
loud and difficult pants to

signal pain. Her puppy heart
still greets every passing car,

so sure of his return in
these, her final hours–goodbye

is wiping white fur from my
salty cheeks, walking away

we’re at the edge of today
and tomorrow might not come.

Inspired by my neighbor Stella, her big beautiful 15-year-old heart and these prompts: Dream, Revel, Edge and Surprise.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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