Untitled Poem

What does he hear, unafraid, off in the dark woods,

staring so intently, so focused, deep into the blackness,

revealing nothing? Listening, I can hear no sounds,

see even less beyond the beam of my flashlight looking

for anything, a movement, a shadow out of place,

two eyes gleaming yellow and bright,

but there is nothing there. It’s disconcerting

as he stares, unmoving, eerie and a little scary.

He gives no barking alarm, no sensing of danger,

no threat to us walking here beside this forest grove

in the darkness, deep and silent, as deep and silent

as us perhaps this cold evening walking out.

Or does he sense something else, something

ethereal, otherworldly, some being

calling him that I cannot see, cannot hear,

so much less aware than he to the forces

that compel him, four-footed, through his canine journey;

and so he brings us home, safe and secure,

hot coffee and doggy treats awaiting us.

Perhaps we need to attune ourselves to the darkness

of our own lives, and finding there, spirits, too,

to guide us home, richly rewarded, content and unafraid.