The Dog and I

We still walk together, the dog and I,

our afternoon stroll. She’s all over the place,

a puppy still in dog years, dragging me behind,

leashed as I am, zig-zagging this country road.

Sometimes, more adventurous, we strike off

down a trail through the woods,

well-worn by many before us, man and dog,

generations of the adventurous out walking.

We’ll loop back, eventually, through old trees

bent and wind-blown, like me, creaking, cracked

and weather-worn, still standing nonetheless, still here,

yet swayed perhaps by the elements blowing,

or a small dog, curious, pulling me along.

We are searching our way through life’s fortune,

following a smell, a squirrel, or a whim,

aimless and without direction, lost

in our own contemplation, life’s pursuit, wondering.

We’ll find our way home in the end, though,

until tomorrow and another walk,

dragging me behind, zig-zagging the road,

or more adventurous, a well-worn trail,

leaving behind our footprints trod along the way.