Off leash

The dogs frolic packs form all along the field
wild flowers weeds turn tender
turn tippy
under the stiff lip of wind leaves crunch
burn bright in scraps of sun
tumble the way the pack loosening
shows tips of tongues bowed backs
all of them feigning submission

Milkweed starbursts and pinwheels all along the path
scrub oak blasts joints and bones
where grey sky parts cold and colder
until foxglove rasps seedy
in out
and the red ribs of alder above
go rich and dead

Sun arc-welds the day down all along the horizon
lines of geese solder the sky
make inexpert seams
the day goes smoky gutters
while I fumble for the fingers
crammed sodden cold in your pocket
and as the pack reforms like foam around our legs
I listen for the clip of leashes
closing

* * *

This is cheating, really, because this poem rightfully belongs to another blog, the Fall Back poetry project, but I couldn't resist.

(The Fall Back poetry project is a month-long collaboration between myself and two BC poets, Anna Swanson and Gillian Wigmore. Anna was a recent finalist in the Bronwen Wallace Memorial Award and Gilly has a spiffy chapbook, entitled home when it moves you, coming out with Creekstone Press as we speak, but more than that, they're both nifty.)

(So we're each writing two poems a week, see? On subjects autumnal, see? And then we egg each other on, see?)

(Fun!)

(It's also cheating because I changed a word from the original posted on Fall Back. But no one ever said I had to respect Fall Back rules on MY blog, see?)