A white Siberian dog
Crouches on a lawn,
Says "I've followed you"
With her grey poetic eyes
"Your entire life."
Yet she hasn't read
An instance of my thoughts
And has no comprehension
How breathing's now an act
Of defiance.
But she knows
The solar thunders
Keep growing, requiring
Ever-higher harmonies
For tuning fork whistles through the trees.
Her color is the same
As the sugar magnolia star
Above my head who says,
"It may not seem like much, but these
Are the days when you discover who you are,"
As if I hadn't missed out
On a thing
When the collective wisdom of humanity
Turned to debris under the weight of the lies
It had to carry.
She asks, instead,
With her glittering blossom,
Whether I had ever
Even stopped before
To look.
The gutters on the streets
And the sidewalk dirt
Are purple now
With a thousand flowers
That won't let me consider
How the sunset
Exposes the facades
As fool's gold
And the tunes that console
Are radio discharge.
She wants to take me
For a ride.
The eagles have
Been waiting
Long enough.
