Entry for June Short Shots Contest
I remember watching them traverse
the water-slicked sands together,
he as a gamboling pup; paws too big for gangly legs,
chasing after wavelets and skitter-bugs; she
moving far slower
yet seeming to glide, graceful
over molten, sky-lit sands.
He would run away
and then back, much
like the waves, pulled and pushed
by scent, instinct, love,
always returning to his shore.
She would pick her way carefully,
of shifting sands beneath feet
no longer as sure as once upon a past,
yet determined to continue forward.
He grew, matured—
body grew into paws,
his energy still focused on catching that wave before it retreated,
now knowing it would return
just as he would, ever, to her side.
She gathered into herself,
once ramrod-straight back bowing to the inevitable,
now knowing the sun could rise only so many times,
would return to her beach
watching every moment.
He runs the paths they walked
every morning, night. He chases after waves
returning in hopes that she will once more
be there. Instinct,
love tides him in his search.
I remember her last walk beneath
a melting butter sky.
A heart-warmed glow lingers still
as he runs, retreats while
waves pulse and pound the cadence of the living.
nosing his way beneath my hand,
his muzzle more grey now than tan.
His eyes wise and searching,
He looks at me. I decide.
I think that today
we must go for a walk.